The Claw of Winter
by Lalaithe
Summary: What do you do while waiting for destiny to arrive? Sarevok Anchev has been defeated, but now Finn must get through the longest winter he has ever known. Follow on story to A Fragment of Substance.
1. No Job

_This is an in-between tale, a follow up to my long BG1 story, A Fragment of Substance, and a prequel to Shadows of Amn. This one will be updated weekly. Reviews and feedback are always gratefully received!_

 _All Bioware characters are owned by Bioware, but Finn is mine._

 _..._

" _Oh, will you just get up already?_ _"_

Imoen let out another blast from the other side of the curtain, but Finn was determined to ignore it. Yes, he knew perfectly well it was past noon. The bright light streaming through the window and his sister's subtle hinting could leave him in no doubt. He knew what time it was. He just didn't care.

"Will you leave me alone?" he barked. "I'll get up when I'm ready."

"Leave _you_ alone? How much do you think I like being harassed by a butcher's boy?"

"I'd have thought you rather enjoy it," he remarked idly.

 _"_ _Just get your lazy arse out of bed!_ _"_ Imoen cried in return, giving him a smack through the curtain. "You need to settle our bill. _Today._ Can you just say yes for me, _please?_ I'm already running late!"

 _"_ _Alright, alright,_ _"_ he grumbled. Anything to get rid of her. Imoen proceeded to storm around the room, muttering obscenities to herself as she set about rearranging the furniture, if the amount of noise she made was to be believed. But at last she grew tired of her tongue-lashing and headed out the door with a final crash.

Finn lay still for a while after she left, his aching head enjoying the silence. Alright, so he'd taken a little of their spare gold down to the tavern. He was in desperate need of a drink. And how was he meant to know she'd put aside that coin for the butcher? Imoen had taken the management of their little household entirely onto herself, never including him in the details unless it was to berate him over some lapse or another.

But soon he forced himself out of bed with a groan. Their grand lodgings consisted of a single room. Since the earthquake had damaged so many houses rents in the city had gone way up, but even without that they would have struggled to find somewhere decent. There was a recessed alcove where Imoen slept, more of a seat with a mattress on it than anything. And Finn got to sleep on the floor.

It was a miserable accommodation in more ways than one. The window frames leaked in the wet, leaving the plaster damp and mildewed. Their neighbours upstairs spent half the time fighting and the other half shagging, and their kids spent all the time screaming. The old woman across the hall ate cabbage at every meal and the stink of it drifted into their room, making the place smell like a stale fart.

And yet Imoen treated it like a palace. She was always on the go, a never-ending well of energy. Even working as a maid never slowed her down, and she always returned from her job at the big house in time to slap food into the pot to feed her starving brother. His rumbling stomach called for him to see what might remain. Fish stew. Last night's fish stew. Suddenly he wasn't so hungry.

Finn didn't understand why she bothered. The only other person who ever saw their flop was him, and he sure didn't care. Maybe she thought that if she scrubbed hard enough, all the taint of the last year would come clean. But some things would never wash.

Worst of all, Imoen's bustling only served to remind him that he was living off his little sister. He wasn't Flaming Fist any more, no wages to call his own. And he'd coldly refused any offer of a reward from the Grand Dukes after doing their job in dealing with Sarevok Anchev; a point of pride, maybe, but it left him more than a little light in the pockets.

Finn did what he had to out of necessity; fortune and glory were distant prospects. And there was no work to be had in Baldur's Gate. He'd _found_ work, sure: laying bricks, acting as a tavern guard, even shovelling horse shite out of a stable. But it never lasted longer than a tenday. The story was always the same; the boss would call him in, tell him thanks, but he was no longer needed. A bag of coins and he was on his way.

It wasn't bad luck. Finn knew the reason why: he'd been blacklisted by the Flaming Fist.

Imoen thought he was being paranoid. Hadn't the Dukes cleared his name, and the commander of the Flaming Fist issued him an honourable discharge? But Finn knew the difference between a formal decree and the chatter of men huddled around a table at barracks.

He'd seen his old neighbour Mick in the street once. They were mates back in the days when they both lived in the officers' accommodation. Mick wasn't even in uniform that day, just out with his wife and kids. Finn had been so glad to see the lot of them, but they didn't want to know. If even Mick couldn't stand to look at him then Finn knew well enough where he stood. There was no room in Baldur's Gate for him. It was time to move on.

But there was nowhere to go. He told Anna that he'd return to Beregost in the spring, but that was a long time coming. Now the city was held in the Claw of Winter, or Alturiak as the scribes at Candlekeep would say. The feasts of Midwinter had passed, and the months till spring seemed to stretch ahead in nothing but a parade of short grey days, driven under by snow or icy rain.

Today though the sun was shining brightly in defiance of Finn's hangover. He helped himself to the last of their ale, then counted out the remaining coins in the crock that Imoen had stashed in the back of cupboard. He grimaced at the little stack of copper pieces on the table, then counted again. It was no good. There wasn't enough to pay off the butcher's receipt. And Imoen would have his head if he didn't pay that bill. Fortunately though, he knew where to get a loan.

...

Finn threw on an extra woollen tunic, then wrapped his cloak tight and headed out the door. It was bright, but cold. Around him the city was bustling, life returned to normal in spite of the disaster that had struck months ago. Carts went clattering past, and the calls of hawkers and peddlers echoed with the noise through the crisp air. Somewhere he could hear a dog barking. Children ran and played, chasing each other around and screaming like banshees.

It all felt so normal, the usual buzz of human activity. But as Finn wandered through the crowds he felt no connection to them. For he had a secret inside, and he knew well enough that if anyone could see him for what he truly was, that buzzing crowd would change into a lynch mob in a heartbeat.

But for that he still had a few friends. Khalid and Jaheira had stayed in the city after Sarevok's defeat, and the pair checked in on them from time to time like worried parents visiting their newly-independent offspring. It always felt strange to see them on a social call; Khalid and Jaheira were not the most naturally sociable of people and the meetings were always strained with small talk. But they had departed nearly a month ago on some Harper mission, and Finn wasn't sure when he might see them again.

But perhaps the most unexpected friend to appear was the one who now dropped his burden and drew up Finn into an excited and rather unwelcome hug.

 _"_ _Friend Finn! Our friend Finn is here!_ _"_

 _"_ _All right, Minsc?_ _"_ Finn said, his voice muffled as he tried to free himself from the monster man's embrace.

"Yes, of course! It is a beautiful day, and now our friend is here! Say hello to our friend, Boo!"

Minsc dropped Finn long enough to remove a small creature from a leather pouch on his belt. He tenderly caressed the hamster's head with a large finger. Boo for his part seemed half-asleep, and more than a little disinterested in Finn. From another pouch Minsc took half a biscuit and fed it to his pet, which garnered a good deal more attention from the rodent.

"Ay up, Boo?" Finn said tentatively.

"Ah, he is quiet today," Minsc said, sounding like a father apologising for his child's behaviour. "Very sleepy! Hamsters like sleep in the daytime. But you should see him at night! He never stops carousing, no!"

"That true, Boo?" Finn said, laughing a little. "We'll have to go out drinking some night."

Minsc gently tucked the creature back into his pouch.

"We would love to go with you. Ah, the taverns would ring with our songs! But Dynaheir says, _Minsc, no more drinking_. Minsc is not allowed an ale!"

"Ah, you're henpecked, that's what," Finn said, though he secretly couldn't blame her. Minsc was daft enough sober, he'd hate to imagine what the man would be like drunk.

"Eh? Minsc keeps no chickens," he replied, sounding a little confused. "But I must get back to work. Still many bags of flour to take into the bakery! Come see me later, my friend. Minsc may not have a drink, but he does like to eat! He will make good food for you!"

"I will, but…listen…can you spot me a few gold? I'll pay you back soon as I can," Finn said quickly, hoping to hold the man's attention.

Minsc heaved the great sack of flour over his shoulder, and he looked at Finn with a raised eyebrow.

"Short of coin again, my friend? It is not good to always be borrowing gold. A man needs to work. Good work is good for the spirit."

"I know, I know," Finn remarked, feeling his face turn red under the simple man's reproachful gaze. "But it's the last time. I'm just short… Imoen asked me to pay a bill…"

"Do not trouble yourself," Minsc interrupted him. "We always have gold for our friends. Except…not today. We have no more gold till the baker gives us our wages. _I know!_ You must ask Dynaheir. She will give you gold for little Imoen, I am sure."

"Er, yeah…" Finn said. "Maybe I'll do that, then. See you later, Minsc."

 _"_ _And Boo!_ _"_ the man called, already away with his sack of flour.

"And Boo," he sighed.

It was hopeless. Finn would sooner face the gaze of a moneylender while wearing nothing but a sack round his waist than ask the imperial mage for a loan, but in this case he didn't have much choice. He wasn't trying to scrounge up a few coins for a drink, he really needed the money. So with a groan he left the bakery and headed for a nearby bookshop.

Of all the people Finn never expected to see again… After their adventures last spring Minsc and Dynaheir had made their way north, settling for whatever reason in Baldur's Gate. He'd always understood that Minsc was on a pilgrimage to prove his manhood, though how he intended to do that working in a bakery was anyone's guess. But any man can find himself in need of coin, he supposed. Maybe they decided to spend the winter in a settled spot, rather than try their luck in the wilderness.

He'd met the Rashemi pair in the city by merest chance; rumour told that a baker in the southern half of town was looking for help, and even though Finn was no baker he decided to try his luck there. Of course he didn't get the job, but he was startled to no end by the towering figure of Minsc shouting his name from the back of the premises.

Daft as he was though, Minsc was welcome enough. He was full of cheer, usually had gold in his pockets, and was a surprisingly good singer. But Dynaheir was another story.

There were people you met who you suspected didn't like you. Then there were people who you _knew_ really didn't like you, and Dynaheir was one. The mage never held back her disdain, and Minsc was completely blind to his companion's lack of regard for their rediscovered friend. So asking her for money was as painful an exercise as it came.

...

The musty little bookshop was an oddity in that neighbourhood, the bookies being a far more popular destination with most folks. Yet the wizened old fellow who owned the shop must have found enough trade in second hand books to keep the place going. But his eyesight wasn't what it once was, so he found himself in need of an assistant. And he had found quite a remarkable one at that.

Finn doubted that most of the people who walked into that shop knew anything about the _Wychlaran,_ the wild witches of Rashemen, but even without knowing her background Dynaheir would earn a second look. Her skin was brown as the bark on a hazel tree, and her hair hung in long, thick sheep-locks decorated with silver rings and charms. She seemed to float as she strode along in that purple mage robe she always had on, and her gaze could crack stone in two. Not a woman to be trifled with, and he didn't reckon many patrons tried to haggle down the price she set for them.

And now Finn found himself forced to ask her for money. As he opened the door of the bookshop he recollected his job as a stable hand a bit more fondly.

The sharp _ting_ of the bells on the door made him jump. Dynaheir was alone in the dimly lit shop, standing behind a podium like she was about to begin a lecture. That would come soon, Finn thought. Her eyebrow raised slightly upon his entrance but for now the mage was civil.

"Fair afternoon to thee," she said.

"Aye, and to you," Finn said in return.

"Art thou in need of a tome this day?" Dynaheir said, casually as she could. Her old-fashioned manner of speech reminded him of the way some farmers talked in the out of the way districts, and Finn wondered again where she learned Common.

"Er, not today," he replied, feeling his face beginning to flush. "I, ah…"

"So it is coin you have come in seek of," Dynaheir interrupted, saving him the effort. "Does not Minsc usually giveth his spare gold to thee?"

"Ah, yeah-but he's a little tapped out," Finn said, trying to recover himself. "It's not for me, really, it's for Imoen. We need to settle a bill, and…"

"One does not lie very convincingly," Dynaheir said, gliding out from behind the podium. "If one is to beg, at least be an honest man."

"I'm trying," he said, gruffly.

Dynaheir made a slight noise in her throat, but Finn thought he saw the faintest hint of amusement in the corner of her mouth. She took the sizeable book she was reading and turned her attention to a shelf, in search of its home.

"Right, all right," Finn said finally. "So I drank up our gold, and now Imoen doesn't have the money to pay the butcher. He'll be round with his cleaver tonight unless I manage to pay that receipt, and if he don't get me then Imoen will. Happy now?"

"I wonder why you think this should make me happy," she replied. "But I prefer to heareth the truth on thy lips, rather than a false tale. How great is thy debt?"

Finn told her. Again he saw what looked like a sign of satisfaction, but she gravely nodded her head.

"I will give you the gold you seek, but in turn you must aid me," Dynaheir said.

"Sure, not a problem," Finn replied, feeling more than a little relieved. Relieved, and surprised. "What did you need? Wood chopped, windows cleaned…"

"None of those things. I need you to acquire a book."

"A book? Haven't you got enough of those already?"

"Do not be impertinent," Dynaheir warned him. "This is a…particular book. For my own study. It is not of the type that interests my master here. I have learned that a bookseller in the city has a copy. I shall give you the coin to barter with, and whatever is left, thy may keep."

"Alright…" Finn said. "But why not just get it yourself?"

He bit his tongue as the words left his mouth, thinking that he shouldn't question the hand of charity at the moment. But Dynaheir just looked at him rather sharply.

"It is…better if someone else were to acquire it. And I fear that if I wait someone else may purchase the book. The book is titled _The Mists of Mir._ Canst thou remember, or shall I write it for thee?"

 _"_ _Mists of Mir._ I think I can remember that," Finn said dryly, trying to avoid saying something else to irritate the mage. "Now where do I need to go?"

He waited while Dynaheir told him the details, and waited even more impatiently as she fetched a bag of gold from the rooms she and Minsc shared above the bookshop. The bag was heavy and he wondered just how much she had put in there, but he didn't stop to count it. There was enough in there to buy an entire library with some to spare, he was sure.

...

The sky was still painfully bright to his tired eyes, especially after spending so long in the dark shop, but the winter days were short and the sun was already beginning to dip to the west. Better to get this over with soon as he could.

The north side of town seemed to fare better than the south after the quake that had marked Sarevok's demise, and there was something comforting in the narrow streets lined with white half-timbered houses. That neighbourhood always had a soothing kind of gentility, though Finn himself could never afford to stay there on his own coin.

He passed by the Golden Hind, that inn which had seemed like such a refuge, and focus, for all his troubles; not because his path took him that way, but because he wanted to. It was still standing, though by the looks of things the landlady had replaced some of the glass windows.

None of his friends were there now. He thought about them now, scattered to the winds. The ranger Kivan was gone, headed south to Shilmista, not likely to be seen again. Xan, the dour elf, had gone back to his home in Evereska, though Finn doubted he was much happier for it. But he still fared better than the knight Ajantis, who was carried home to Amn in a funeral urn.

But mostly Finn thought of Anna. He still hadn't replied to her last letter. Had it been a month? Every day he meant to write, but by evening the will had left him. He thought of her sitting by the fire in her cottage, alone, as the winter waited outside. Time had stopped now, he was sure. That winter would never end.

At last he found the shop in question. It was a considerably more upmarket kind of place than Dynaheir's shop, quite possibly because more folks in that neighbourhood could actually read. The diamond-pane windows glistened smartly in the fading afternoon sun. As he walked in the door Finn read a notice tacked up near the entrance.

 _All types of BINDING available, leather volumes in twelve COLOURS to suit any setting. New volumes cut, old books rebound, professional SERVICE of the highest calibre_ _…_

Finn began to feel decidedly shabby as he entered the shop. Carved wood panelling framed the spaces between the heavy shelves that were rammed with books of all sorts, bound and unbound. Finely upholstered chairs dotted the place as a comfort to the patrons. A well-dressed shopkeeper appeared from nowhere, eyeing Finn through round spectacles.

"Is this a trade enquiry, my man?" he asked. "We do prefer that tradesmen ring at the back door, as not to disturb our customers."

Apart from himself there were no customers there, and the shopkeeper clearly looked concerned someone with money might walk in the door at any moment.

"No," Finn replied, trying to muster what confidence he could. "I'm here to buy."

"Ah, are you?" the man replied, sounding surprised. "We do not stock chapbooks here, though I could tell you a shop in the area which does. We do carry a selection of popular texts, though the cost of binding can be somewhat… _expensive._ Perhaps you would be better off in the market."

The man clearly expected Finn to slink away, but his snippy manner was getting his ire up. Besides, he had a reason to be there.

"I'm only after one book. I was told you'd have a copy of it," Finn said bluntly.

"Indeed? We do stock many volumes…what might the title be?" the shopkeeper asked.

"It's…" Finn began, then his mind drew a blank. _"_ _Mir. Mountains of Mir._ Something to do with Mir."

He felt his face growing hot with embarrassment, but the bookseller looked more intrigued than anything.

 _"_ _The Mists of Mir?_ Yes, we have taken in a copy of that book. I acquired it at an estate sale recently…the previous owner sadly lost his life, if not his collection in that terrible disaster. It hasn't yet been rebound, but if you are truly interested in making a purchase…I would be willing to sell it to you. Of course, the price is…"

"High. I get it," Finn said. "Don't worry, I've got the gold. How much do you want for it?"

"Well…it is a rare and somewhat _obscure_ old tome. I'm quite curious as to how you knew… But that is not my business. I would be willing to sell it today for a hundred gold weight."

Finn felt his stomach twist. One hundred? For a _book?_ A hundred gold would pay their rent into next year. He knew some of the books in Candlekeep were worth a fortune but he didn't know what was so special about this one. And he had no idea if the weighty bag Dynaheir gave him even held that amount. He needed to get the price down.

"A hundred, and it hasn't been rebound?" he heard himself saying. "It must have taken damage in the quake. I'll give you sixty, tops."

"Well, the book has taken _some_ damage, to be sure…but mostly due to its age. It is quite old. Still…I am pleased to see a man of your station take an interest in…never mind. I could accept eighty, but not one copper less. Of course, I would need to ensure that funds are received before I could let the book out of my possession."

"Seventy. Cash on the nail," Finn replied, and held up the bag for him to see.

There wasn't a merchant going who could pass up a cash payment, and this man looked no different. His little beard twitched and he drew in a breath.

 _"_ _Well._ It has been a slow trade day…if you can produce the coin, you may have the book."

Finn's hands shook as he opened the bag. _Could_ he produce the coin? He'd feel a right tosser if there wasn't enough. But Dynaheir obviously hadn't reckoned on his bartering skills, for there was enough coin for the book and then some. Finn finally began to relax watching the merchant counting out the gold to his satisfaction.

"Excellent, excellent. This all looks in order," he said, eyeing up the gold in case of potential forgery. "Now, if you would like to leave me your address, I can have the book delivered to you by tomorrow afternoon."

"No need. I'll take it with me," Finn replied.

"If that is what you wish…I will have it wrapped."

He rang a small bell on the table, and a crisp-looking but pale young fellow appeared from the back.

"Perengil, if you will see to this _gentleman_ _'_ _s_ wishes, I need to step out back for a moment," the merchant said.

"Yes, sir," the young man replied as the merchant disappeared with Finn's gold.

The fellow offered him wine, but Finn declined. He was in a rush, and he got the feeling the bloke was there less to cater to his needs than to ensure he didn't rob the place while his master's back was turned. After what was an awkward wait for the pair of them the merchant finally returned, bearing a book in his hands.

"Here it is… _The Mists of Mir._ Are you a reader of Jonus Holkenar's travelogues?"

"Read every single one," Finn said brusquely.

"Interesting…" the merchant said, examining the tome. "He was quite popular in his day, but accused in later years of fabricating much of what he wrote. Though I suppose a certain amount of hyperbole is to be expected amongst such writers. His volumes are rather difficult to come by these days. He was disdained by serious historians, deemed of little value. A pity, really, for he was quite astute at observing the architecture…"

"You're right, but if you don't mind, there's other things I need to do today," Finn said, interrupting the man.

 _"_ _Ah_ , yes…of course. If everything is to your liking, my assistant will wrap your book."

Finn took the book from the man and flipped though a few pages. The parchment was foxed and yellow, the leather cover dry as dust, and he held it carefully lest the whole book disintegrate in his hands. He squinted at the ornate, old-fashioned text, though he was familiar enough with this sort of antiquarian tome from his days in the library.

It was a travel narrative, the story of the long-dead author's journey through Tethyr into Calisham. Why Dynaheir was so keen to get her hands on it Finn couldn't imagine. She could have travelled to Calimport herself for the price that book fetched her.

But that was Dynaheir's business, not his. He'd done as she asked and had a pocketful of gold left over to boot. The merchant's boy wrapped the precious parcel and Finn was on his way.


	2. The Pale Lady

Finn stopped round the butcher's before heading back to the bookshop; Dynaheir could wait but the puffy old butcher was another story. He paid the receipt and headed out into the darkening air feeling much better than before.

The bookshop closed by the time he got there, so Finn went round the corner into the narrow alleyway behind the row of shops. The gate was unlocked and slowly he climbed the creaking steps that lead to Minsc and Dynaheir's rooms.

"You are here at last," Dynaheir said, peering out at Finn through a crack in the door. Her worried face was framed by light from the candle she held in her hand, and it set the silver rings in her hair glittering.

"What, you weren't thinking I ran off with your coin, were you?" Finn asked.

"You have acquired the book?" she said in reply.

"Aye, here… Just as you asked."

He stepped inside and delivered the parcel into her eager hands. Dynaheir set it on the table and quickly tore open the paper and string.

"Yes! This is it. Exactly what I did need," she said quickly.

"Well, I'm glad you like it," Finn shrugged. "Hope it's worth the price. Here's what's left."

He tossed the sack with Dynaheir's remaining coins onto the table. She managed to tear her eyes away from the book long enough to glance up in surprise.

"There is a fair amount of gold yet there. Ye did not wish to keep it for thyself?"

"I took what I needed to pay the bill," Finn replied. "But I don't think I'm owed a king's ransom for being an errand boy. That's your gold, not mine."

"Then you do have honesty within thee. Though if I were to be honest as well…the gold is as much Minsc's as mine."

"Then I'm not the only borrower around here," he smirked.

"It would seem not," Dynaheir replied.

She managed a slight chuckle. Getting her hands on the book had obviously put her in a good mood.

"Well, I'm off back home then," Finn said.

"You may stay if you wish. Minsc should return soon," she offered.

"Cheers, but I kind of feel like getting back home. Tell Minsc I'll see him soon. Happy reading."

Dynaheir didn't put up an argument, and Finn heard the bolt slide across the door as he stepped back outside. Minsc was bound to put on a good spread-he had a fondness for roast boar in particular-but somehow Finn didn't feel up to socialising that night. He wandered through the city, eventually finding a tavern where no one was likely to know him. He ordered a bowl of pottage and a mug of ale with the few coins still in his pocket, and ate his meal in the silence of a corner table.

He couldn't carry on like this. He needed to do _something_ other than scrounge coins like a beggar. Was this going to be his life? Maybe if he could get out of the city, somewhere beyond the reach of the Flaming Fist, but it had occurred to him more than once that Beregost was right in the heart of their territory. He'd likely stand no more chance of finding work there than he did here.

Finn headed back to their dark room and threw himself down into bed. Imoen still hadn't returned and he left the cancelled receipt on the table to spare himself more harassment. When she finally came home Imoen said nothing to him. She pottered around the room for a short while, then tucked into her alcove for the night. Finn stared at the curtain for a long time, then finally fell asleep.

...

The next day was empty and dull. A sheet of grey cloud had replaced yesterday's sun, making the city look bleak as a tomb. Finn stayed at home, whiling away the hours as he whittled a stick of wood into some unknown shape. He was hungry. There was no food, and he didn't have the coin to go out and get some. He'd have to wait to see if Imoen brought anything home.

That day went on forever. But as the temple bells counted four o'clock there was an unexpected knock on the door. Finn opened the door to see a lad he didn't recognise.

"Are you Finnigan?" the boy drawled.

"Who's asking?" he replied.

"I got a letter here for Finnigan," the boy said, holding out a sealed piece of parchment.

"I reckon that's me, then," Finn replied, though he wondered who would bother to write him a letter. The name on the parchment wasn't in Anna's handwriting.

The boy handed over the letter, but his hand stayed held out expectantly in return. Finn didn't have more than a copper left, but he placed it in the rather disgusted boy's hand. The lad stamped down the stairs but Finn had forgotten about him already, more curious than ever about the letter. He broke open the seal and read a flowing script.

 _'_ _To the Most Esteemed Master Finnigan-_

 _I am in great need of assistance. I was told you could aid me. My situation is most delicate, so please forgive me for not speaking with you in person. If you could come to my home this evening I will explain all. Of course I am willing to pay for your help in this matter._

 _I urgently await your attendance._

 _Signed,_

 _I.V._ _'_

There was an address written there, but that was all.

"Right…" Finn said to himself.

He had no idea what the mysterious I.V. wanted with him, though in his experience letters like that were usually trouble. But the offer of coin had perked his interest beyond curiosity. Imoen wouldn't be back till late tonight, so there was no one to talk him out of it. It wouldn't hurt to go along and see what the offer was. Hopefully.

But he wasn't entirely stupid, and Finn reckoned he should prepare for trouble. After darkness fell he stuck his dagger in his boot, then opened up the cupboard beneath Imoen's alcove. There, wrapped in a blanket was a spare sword that Khalid had gifted him.

There were in fact two swords in that house. The other one he kept well hidden, sealed under the floorboards. He wasn't sure if Imoen even knew it was there.

Finn had carried Sarevok's blade for a short time after his demon brother fell; it was a remarkable sword, perfectly forged and heavy with enchantment. But it was wicked. Finn knew that; he could almost feel his brother's hate and bloodlust melded into the steel. And it reached out to him, too. Finn locked it away, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. For it didn't truly matter if the blade was lying on the bottom of the ocean; it was a part of him now, bound to his blood by the same curse that bound him to Sarevok.

He didn't need that tonight. So he strapped Khalid's perfectly serviceable, if unremarkable, weapon onto his hip instead. His good chain mail was long gone, so he wore a stiff leather jerkin in its place. Before he left the house though he took one more precaution. He scribbled down the address of the meeting onto a scrap of paper and left it on the table. Just in case his meeting took a little _longer_ than he hoped.

...

Finn was tense as he walked the darkened streets. It was still damned cold and he kept his cloak wrapped close. He managed to find the place without much trouble. It was a fine house in the better part of town, and looking at it Finn rather wondered if he had got the wrong address.

The whole place was dark, without a light to be seen. Even the lamps at the front door were out. Finn tried the gate though, and it was open. He had no idea if his contact intended him to arrive at the front or back door, but by then he really didn't care. He lifted the heavy bronze knocker and rapped hard three times.

He didn't expect an answer. In fact he began to feel rather nervous, and almost hoped no one would come to the door. But just as he was about to turn away the door clicked open.

Finn stepped back, but there was no one there. Inside was an empty hallway, dark as the outside. His hand slowly went to his blade and he spoke into the dark.

"Alright… This door didn't open itself. Whoever is there, speak up, or I'm gone."

Silence.

"I mean it," Finn said, a little louder than before. "Show yourself, or I'm leaving. I'm not daft enough to walk into some darkened house without even knowing who's there!"

But there was still no reply. Finn's hand gripped his sword tighter. He wasn't about to step in that hallway, but somehow he couldn't leave. Was this a trick, or a trap? But at last a light appeared.

A woman swept forward, holding a candle in her hand. She wore a milky-white gown of silk that was almost as pale as the bare skin on her shoulders. Her hair was dark, and Finn saw with surprise that she was an elf.

"I say…are you just going to stand there?" she asked in a trilling voice. "Come inside, you are letting the cold in!"

"I…" Finn began.

"The door has an automatic lock. I can open it from the parlour. Rather a clever design. I am sorry if you find the place too dark; I forget sometimes that your kind do not see well in the night. Come, the parlour is warm and bright."

She smiled graciously, her beautiful face lighting up with a grin. She took Finn by the arm and he shuddered without knowing why.

"So you…sent for me?" he managed to ask.

"Yes, forgive my lack of introductions. My name is Ione Valesa. I do apologise that my note was so short, but there is so much to say that it is better to talk in person. Come, here, sit down."

She led him into a spacious parlour. True to her word the place was warm from a bright fire, though there were only two lamps lit, leaving the large room rather dim. A silver pitcher of wine was on a table, and she poured him a generous cup.

"Um, cheers," Finn said. He raised the goblet to his lips but didn't drink.

"Oh, I can understand your hesitation," the elven woman laughed. "But I have not invited you here to poison you. Far from it. I am in need of your help, and I shall certainly need you _alive._ _"_

She flounced down onto a sofa with a goblet of wine in her own hand. She smiled broadly again and patted the seat next to her, but Finn remained standing.

"Right then," he said, setting his drink down on the table. "So what is it that you want? And why call on me, anyway?"

"Oh, you are full of questions," the woman replied, taking a sip of her wine. "Though I imagine you must find me very curious. Very well, then. I have had something very important stolen from me. And I need your help to get it back."

"The Flaming Fist are the best people to go for that sort of thing, being the law and all that," Finn remarked. "And I'm not one of them anymore."

"Perhaps, but we are not talking about an ordinary possession. It is a circlet…an ancient one. My ancestors bore it with them when they departed Myth Drannor. Have you heard of the fabled elven city? But that is irrelevant. That it is priceless to me is all that matters. I must have it returned."

The woman spoke earnestly, gazing up at him through watery blue eyes. Finn looked away.

"Then I'm guessing that whoever stole it wasn't a common footpad, either."

"You are astute. I kept the treasure in a well-warded case, but the thief managed to break through my enchantments with ease. No ordinary rogue could have managed such a feat."

"But I still don't know what you want me to do," he said. "The thief could be anywhere in the city. He could be long gone. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Ah, but I do not expect you to canvas the city," the woman replied. "I know who the thief is. There is only one person, apart from myself, who could have opened that case. It is attuned to my blood, you see. And its loss can only mean one thing; my brother has found me at last."

"Family feud?"

"Yes…quite," the woman sighed again. "He is the elder child, and felt that this heirloom should have been passed to him. But our father did not approve of him or the company he kept, so when he died the circlet came to me. And ever since then my heartless brother has been pursuing me, attempting to gain it back."

"He sounds rather determined to get his hands on a trinket, even if it is old," he remarked.

"What you hint at is true," she admitted. "It is no mere piece of jewellery, but carries a powerful enchantment. And I fear my brother is of no good moral standing. He will put it to bad ends, I am sure. You must find it and return it to me!"

She raised her white arms in a pleading gesture, the perfect image of a damsel in distress. But the real question of the night remained unanswered.

"That's as may be," Finn began. "But you still haven't said why you need _me._ How do you even know my name?"

"You are a modest man," she said. "Whatever you may think, your deeds have not gone unnoticed. There are those in this city who know your name, and I happen to be one of them. Someone of your power and ability is just what is needed."

"I'm flattered and all that, but I'm just one bloke with a sword," Finn said, feeling uncomfortable at the way her eyes lit up at the mention of his _power._ "What you need is a mercenary company. You know my name, then you must know of a few that could help you out for a price. Unless you think I'm cheaper?"

The woman gazed at him with a little smile on her face.

"I have ten thousand in gold waiting for whoever brings back my circlet," she declared, her voice suddenly louder. "And I think, perhaps, you are not truly alone?"

 _"_ _Ten thousand?_ _"_

Finn barely had time to whirl around before the excited voice cried out behind him. _Imoen._ Of course it was Imoen.

"What the hells are you doing here?" he cried, trying to put his heart back in his chest.

"What am I doing here?" Imoen proclaimed. "I came to the address you left on the table, that's what! Don't shout at me. What are _you_ doing here? And what's this about ten thousand gold?"

The girl virtually skipped into the room, well-wrapped in her cape with the peaked hood. Her cheeks were pink as her hair from the cold and her eyes were glowing with excitement.

"It's just… I don't know. I don't know. There's no gold, Im, settle down! You shouldn't be here. It's late. I thought you were working, anyway?" Finn stumbled. The sudden appearance of his sister had left him on the wrong foot.

"We got done early. I brought home some roast beef, but you weren't there. I thought you were out at the tavern till I saw your note. I figured I'd come and see what was up."

"Well, we're leaving now!" he declared. "Listen, lady… Ione… I don't know about this. I think you need to find someone else. Sorry to waste your time. Come on, Im, we're done."

Imoen protested, but he herded her towards the door like an irate goat. Ione for her part said nothing, but if she was disappointed the little grin on her face didn't show it. The elven woman didn't even bother to say goodbye, and sipped her wine with satisfaction.

"Alright, grumpy-pants, are you going to tell me what that was about or not?" Imoen spat as they finally cleared the gates.

 _"_ _No._ Forget about it," Finn said harshly. "Let's just go home, eh?"

"But she said… Ten thousand to find something. I know, I heard her! Why won't you tell me what it is?"

"Because we're not doing it, that's why," he said. "Forget it. It's no good. Come on, I'm starving."

He wasn't really hungry anymore, but he needed some excuse to get her out of there. Imoen thankfully said nothing else as she trotted along under her hood, but the pensive way she stared at the cobbles had him worried. At last though they reached their lodgings. Finn had never felt so glad to climb that grubby staircase and lock the door.

...

The next morning Imoen seemed unusually quiet, and Finn reckoned she was still sore about last night. But she said nothing about it and he was quite happy to let it lie. What had he been thinking, going to that place alone? He was lucky his guts weren't decorating the sewers just then. He stuck a slice of cold roast beef into one of the cobs Imoen had brought and took a bite.

"What time are you working today?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Oh, later," she said absently.

She had a lead pencil in her hand and doodled absently on a scrap of paper. Finn glanced at it and realised she was drawing a paper doll. When she was little she used to make poppets from parchment the monks would sometimes give her. The lady had curling hair and a smiling face, with a crown perched on her head. He also noticed it was the parchment from last night.

"Look, about that… I'm sorry I got cross last night," he began. "I just hadn't expected you to turn up there. More fool me, eh? I didn't know what was going on myself. It could have been anyone in that house. I was just worried, that's all."

"Oh," Imoen said flatly.

"If I get any more mysterious offers I'll be sure to let you in, okay?" he said.

"Right," she said.

Imoen looked up long enough to give him a slight smile. There was a bright look in her eyes and Finn reckoned his work was done.

"I'm going out," he said after finishing his breakfast.

"Where are you going?" Imoen asked.

"Out," Finn sighed. "Nowhere for me to be. I'll see you later, okay?"

Imoen nodded and proceeded with her drawing. Finn wandered out into the city, glad to put the business behind him. Yesterday's cloud hadn't blown away, and today the skies looked like snow. But Finn cared less about the weather today than he had a few days earlier.

He wandered around the market stalls, gazing at things he couldn't afford to buy. He spied a fine silk scarf woven in green and gold, and imagined for a moment how pretty it would look draped over Anna's hair. But that thought didn't bring happiness and he moved on again.

...

With absolutely nothing to do Finn meandered down towards the bridge which crossed to the docks. The cold was beginning to bite and he had no coin for an ale, no chance of putting his feet up in a warm tavern. He'd hoped Imoen might spot him a few coppers, but there was little chance of that today. As he stood pondering the sky turned white. Snowflakes began to fall, a few scouts at first, then an entire army. The bridge was lost in the whirlwind and the hapless travellers were reduced to featureless blobs as they hurried about their business.

It was too much for Finn and he wearily headed home. He returned to find Imoen gone; she must have gone up to the big house for the day. He settled himself down for another day of nothing, but before long he heard the sound of heavy boots on the stairs.

Finn tensed; he knew that sound well enough. A crisp rap sounded on the door and he straightened his tunic before slowly drawing open the bolt.

It was the Fist. He knew it was the Fist even before he opened the door. They just had that way of walking. But he was still surprised to see the man on the other side.

 _"_ _Mick?_ What are you doing here?"

It was his old neighbour, sure enough. He was in uniform but kept his cloak drawn tightly as if to hide that fact. But Finn could tell straight away it wasn't a social call. Mick's normally jovial face was tense and unsmiling.

"Alright, Finn?" he said hesitantly. "Haven't talked in awhile. Mind if I come in?"

"Sure," Finn replied, growing more surprised. At least Mick wasn't there to arrest him. He showed Mick inside and shut the door behind them.

"Your sister not here?" he asked.

"Ah, no," Finn said, growing worried now. Mick didn't even know Imoen, why was he asking about her?

"Just as well," Mick replied. "Look, I'll get this out there… This isn't an official call, understand? Nobody needs to know I've been here."

"No worries there. But what's wrong? Has something happened to Imoen?"

"No… Not yet, anyway. Look… Today we got a call out to Lord Brenell's estate. Seems a few jewels have gone missing, and he suspected the staff. 'Course, sticky fingers are always hard to prove unless they're caught in the act. We searched the lot of them, turned over the staff rooms, but didn't turn up a thing."

"Brenell?" Finn began. "But that's where…"

"Where your Imoen works, aye," Mick sighed. "But Brenell wouldn't let it drop. He was ranting and raving, threatening to give them all the sack unless someone talked. And, well… One of the maids came forward. Said she saw your Imoen in the lady's room when she had no cause to be. She denied it all, of course…"

"Wait… You're saying Imoen's getting done for _stealing?_ _"_ Finn exclaimed.

"There's no proof beyond the word of the other maid," Mick said. "And she might well have been lying to save her job. But we need to look into it just the same."

"So what are you here for, then?" Finn said.

"Well. I thought, maybe, if the jewels were recovered… Brenell might be persuaded to let it drop. You know these nobles, they don't want to be seen with anything like a scandal in their house. So, if you'd let me have a look around…"

"And you said this wasn't official," Finn said grimly.

"It's not. At least, it doesn't need to be," Mick replied. "Look, I'd be up to my balls in hot water if the captain got a whiff that I was here on my own. I'm doing you a favour."

"And what happens if you find them?"

"I'll take them with me. Finn, I'm trying to help you out here."

Mick seemed earnest, and he didn't know what to think.

"And what would you want to help me for?" he asked. "You didn't want to know last time I saw you."

"I'm sorry about that," Mick said quietly. "But we don't deal with ex-Fist too often. There's all sorts of odd rumours about you at base. Not that I believe them….hells, some were even saying that you were working for dead Duke Anchev!"

 _"_ _Working for Anchev?_ _"_ Finn cried.

He could feel his face growing red at the accusation, but Mick clearly didn't understand the reason.

"I know, it's mad, right?" he said. "I think that quake messed with people's minds. But to tell the truth…I feel sorry for you. You've landed flat on your face here. Your wife's gone, I don't know why, and now you're holed up in this…place. I don't know what the real story is, but Commander Vai gave you an honourable discharge, and that's good enough for me."

"Cheers, then," Finn croaked.

He looked down at the floor, and Mick cleared his throat.

"But your sister's issue is another matter," he said. "Just let me have a look, Finn. I swear, if there's anything…I'll do what I can to see that she gets leniency. She's young, and the pair of you don't have two coppers to rub together. Doesn't justify stealing, of course, but…"

"Alright, just… Just do it…" Finn groaned.

He sat down hard on a chair and seized his head in his hands. Mick began searching the room with that quiet efficiency brought on by years of practice. He turned over the mattresses and checked the stitching, searched the pots in the cupboard, and shook out their few spare clothes. He opened the cupboard under Imoen's alcove and pulled out what things he could find, rooting through every box and bag. But he found nothing, and in that little room there were few places to hide.

"Nothing. Nothing's there," Finn said, feeling greatly relieved.

"Just need to look for any hidden spots now," Mick said cautiously.

He inspected the fire as well as he could, then turned his attention to the floorboards. Finn's alarm grew as Mick's trained eyes spotted the loose boards in the corner.

 _"_ _Wait_ _…"_ Finn called, as he was about to lift the board.

"What is it?" he said, pausing.

"There's nothing in there," Finn said quickly. "Nothing of Imoen's, I mean. My stuff. Imoen doesn't know about it."

"Then if I could just have a look…"

 _"_ _No._ Please… Believe me, mate. On my word. There's nothing of Imoen's in there. Just please… If you're my friend, don't lift that board."

Mick just stared at him, unsure of what to make of his sudden urgency.

"What have you got under there, Finn, a body?" he said, trying to joke.

"Aye, you got me," he replied, holding up his hands and attempting to laugh. "Honestly, though… It's nothing illegal. Just…private. You can look if you really want, but please…let it be."

"Well…alright," Mick said slowly. "I'll take your word on it. But I can't find anything in here. Barring any further evidence, it looks like your Imoen is in the clear. 'Course, I don't think Lord Brenell could be convinced to give her job back, but…"

"What, you mean she's been sacked?" Finn asked.

"Aye," Mick replied. "The rumour was enough for him. Nothing we can do about that. It's his staff, he can do as he pleases."

"Then…she doesn't have a job anymore."

"Doesn't look like it," Mick said, trying to sound comforting. "Well, I'm sure you two can manage. Though if you really needed coin…"

"No. We're fine. We're fine," Finn repeated.

He wasn't going to be a charity case for the entire world. But if Imoen wasn't getting any wages he had no idea what they were going to do. The next quarter's rent was due in a fortnight, and they still needed to eat in the meantime.

"I'd best be off then," Mick said, breaking into his thoughts. "You…look after yourself, alright?"

"And you as well," Finn heard himself saying. "Say hello to Ella and the lads for me."

"Lads and a little lady," Mick said, suddenly grinning. "Least that's what Ella keeps saying. Reckon she's hoping for a girl this time!"

"Good lad. See you round," Finn said weakly.

Mick clapped him on the back and headed out into the white city. Finn shut the door behind him, listening to the sound of his boots on the stairs. He sat back on the chair and let out a long, low groan.

Everything was tits up now. How could they stay in the city? They were poor before, but now they had nothing. Finn's eyes were drawn to the floorboards where Sarevok's blade was hidden. He imagined he could hear a sound, almost like a heartbeat coming from under those boards. A steady pounding…it was a drum. That blasted blade was alive, and he knew it.

He jumped to his feet, determined to silence his tormentor. But when he tore open the floorboards it wasn't the sword which held his gaze. There, next to the scabbard was a small bundle of cloth. That wasn't his.

He took it up, surprised at its weight. With shaking hands he unwrapped the cloth, rolling it over and over until a gold necklace and ring went thudding to the floor. The rubies set within them shone bright like blood.

 _"_ _By all the hells, Imoen,_ _"_ he whispered. _"_ _What have you done?_ _"_


	3. False Front

Finn wrapped the jewels up tight again and hurriedly stashed them in at least three different places, each time changing his mind and putting them somewhere else. Supposing Mick came back? But he didn't. It was just him and the guilty jewels alone in that room.

It was no wonder Imoen was so quiet that morning. But she didn't return and Finn wondered where she could possibly be. She was done at her job, she could be anywhere. Finn began to pace the floor, and the longer he waited, the greater his agitation grew. He needed to do _something._

He thought about trying to sneak the jewels back into the estate. But that was a ridiculous idea; Lord Brenell's house was well-guarded and he was no thief.

He wanted to throttle Imoen. What was she _thinking?_ He'd seen the city prisons. She hadn't. Those jewels were no trinkets by the look of them; get a magistrate in a bad mood and the gods only knew what might happen. She could be sent to labour in a workhouse for the next few years. And worse than that…thieves could still hang.

Whatever Mick's assurances Finn didn't feel any better. They wouldn't have a chance without a solicitor to plead their case, and they had as much chance of paying their fees as they did of flying. Finn needed to act, and there was only one thing he could do.

He took the jewels from their hiding place and stowed them in his belt pouch. It would be safer that way, in case the Fist came back. Hells, maybe he'd get lucky and a cutpurse would swipe them, he thought grimly. Finn belted on Khalid's sword and headed swiftly towards Ione Valesa's house.

There were no more signs of life in the place than there were the night before. Although it was only afternoon the curtains were all drawn closed. Finn wondered if the woman was at home, but he knocked just the same. There was no response, and he knocked again. Didn't she keep any servants? That was queer for such a big house. At last though the door opened.

He had grown somewhat accustomed to the strangeness of the place, and stepped inside even though there was no one to greet him. He called out her name and heard a muffled reply. A door at the end of the hall opened, and Ione appeared.

"Well, hello," she said cheerfully, though her voice sounded rather weak. "I am pleased to see that you've returned. You left in something of a rush last night."

"Well, you know…family troubles," Finn shrugged.

"I know all about them," Ione smiled. "Please, come with me."

She led him once more into the large parlour. But this time the fire was out and the room was dark from the heavy curtains drawn across the windows.

"You just get in?" Finn asked, shivering.

"If you like," Ione replied lightly. "Is it too cold? You may build a fire if you wish."

"No, ta…I won't be here that long. But I'll open those curtains if you don't mind."

"No, don't…" she suddenly said. "I do not want any prying eyes to see in. I shall light a candle if you need light."

She set about the task, but the little light seemed so small and lost on the table. Ione was still dressed in white; she must have a thing for that colour, Finn thought. She laid herself down on a sofa and gazed up at him, rubbing her temple with a long finger.

"So…you are once again here. I take it that means you have reconsidered my offer?"

"I'll hear more about it," Finn said cautiously.

"Good, good. I knew you would not fail to help a lady. And it is well that you are here. I know precisely where you must go. One of my brother's compatriots is staying here in the city. He is living under an assumed name, but I have managed to track him down. You must go to his house, and discover where my brother has taken the circlet."

"And how am I meant to do that, exactly?"

"If you need an answer, ask a question. That is a simple task."

"And what happens when he doesn't answer?" he remarked.

"Oh, use your imagination," Ione said languidly. "Be bold, and I do not think it will take much to convince him. Don't worry; he is not of the sort to call out the law!"

"I don't know…" Finn said, still hesitant.

"If you cannot handle this, then you will stand little chance against my brother," Ione said, giving him a look that made him flinch. "Do this, and I will put gold in your pocket even tonight."

Finn clenched his teeth. There was something wrong about this, something strange as this woman and her house. He didn't like it at all. What authority did he have to go around threatening a stranger? He knew nothing about this man, and nothing about Ione for that matter. All he had was her word, and a promise of gold. But his back was against the wall. As long as his sword stayed in its scabbard there shouldn't be any real problems.

"All right. I'll do it," he sighed. "So who's this fellow? Where do I need to go?"

"Excellent!" Ione said. "I shall not bother telling you his alias, but his true name is Rumar Trevalan. He lives in the south-east of town."

"And I suppose I should wait till after nightfall?" Finn said.

"No, no. I would go now; he is something of a night-owl, and may not return home until the small hours. Question him and return to me at once. I will be waiting!"

"Okay," Finn breathed.

Ione gave him more details about where the man could be found, but Finn hardly took it in. He let himself out of that strange house and set his feet towards the south-eastern part of town. It was a rough neighbourhood there, but he had little concern for any ruffians that might be lurking around. His mission and Imoen's light hands kept wrestling with one another over and over in his head.

...

He eventually found the place. It was an end-of-terrace house, larger than most, virtually derelict like the rest of them in that neighbourhood. The windows were smashed out and covered by rough wooden shutters. It looked abandoned but a curl of smoke was rising from the chimney.

Finn stepped up to the front door, then stopped. Whoever this fellow was, he wasn't likely to just let him in and have a chat. Darkness was coming on, and in that neighbourhood most turned a blind eye to strange doings anyway. So Finn crept round the back.

The door to the back garden was locked, but luckily the wall wasn't more than five feet high. With a grunt Finn managed to drag himself over. He landed lightly as he could in the small patch of ground that led up to the rear of the place. Finn cursed though realising that the back door was bolted from the inside. He was wondering what to do when he happened to glance down at the cellar door.

Houses like this were all built the same, and he'd been inside plenty of them during his time on the Flaming Fist patrol. There would be a trapdoor from the cellar leading into the pantry. With any luck it wouldn't be locked inside.

An iron lock did hold fast the cellar door, but the wood surrounding the bolt was rotted from the rain. Finn wedged his dagger in there and with little effort managed to pull the nails clean away from the wood.

He opened the cellar door slowly, fully expecting it to groan like a donkey, but luckily the hinges were silent. He left the door open so he could have some light and stepped carefully into the cellar.

The ceiling was low and he had to stoop to walk. The cellar was surprisingly well-stocked for that part of town; his elbows bumped into a great many crates, and in the darkness he could spy several large casks of ale. But this fellow's larder was no interest of his. Finn saw a set of wooden steps rising up to the ceiling; that must be where the kitchen was. But before he could make a step further he heard a _slam_ and was left completely in the dark.

 _"_ _Oi there!_ _"_ Finn shouted as he stumbled towards the cellar door. He threw all his weight against it but the door didn't budge. Who shut it? How? But he had little time to wonder for the trap door in the pantry suddenly opened, letting in a block of light.

 _"_ _Oh, cellar rat!_ _"_ a mocking voice called from above. _"_ _I seem to have you cornered. Come up here so I can have a look at you._ _"_

Finn gritted his teeth hard. So much for stealth.

"Alright, I'm coming up," he called.

Slowly he mounted the steps, fully expecting a blade to take his head off before he reached the top. But he made it safely into the kitchen and stood blinking in the light.

Like the cellar below, the kitchen was remarkably well stocked. A joint of beef and two game hens were roasting on a spit in front of the fire, and on a side table were bowls full of expensive fruit, arranged in an attractive display. But Finn was more interested in the people who faced him at that particular moment.

A man was there, wearing an embroidered purple robe that hung to his knees. He folded his arms and gave Finn a half-amused look. A woman stood behind him, dressed in leather and not looking at all amused. Another man stood near the kitchen door, blocking the exit. He was probably the one who had trapped him.

Finn cursed to himself; Ione never mentioned this fellow would have guards. But he straightened himself up and drew a deep breath, waiting for the man to speak.

"Well, then, who might you be?" the man in the purple robes said.

"Doesn't matter," Finn replied, managing to compose himself somewhat. "I've come to have a chat."

"Have a chat!" the man exclaimed. "Well, I hardly thought you were here collecting subscriptions for the temple. You're no housebreaker by the look of you…built like an ox, you are. Hired muscle, I'd say. So who has sent you my way, boy? Speak up!"

"Ione Valesa sent me," he replied. "She says you might know where to find something of hers."

How much was he actually meant to say? Interrogations were not so easy without the weight of the Flaming Fist behind him. This time he was the one in the corner.

"I don't know that name," the man replied. "But a few things cross my hands from time to time… What _exactly_ is this Valesa person looking for?"

"A circlet. An ancient elven circlet."

The man's mouth opened and he let out a laugh. The man at the door joined him, and even the stone-faced woman looked amused for half a moment.

 _"_ _An ancient elven circlet?_ Oh, my boy, I think someone has led you on a wild goose chase. I don't deal in jewellery. Are you certain you have the right house? Well, laddie… Lucky for you, you've given me some entertainment. Get out of my sight and we'll forget this little incident ever occurred, eh?"

He glanced at the man near the door, and he swiftly opened it. Finn was more than a little keen to get out of there, but his stubborn feet didn't budge.

"She said you were helping her brother," he continued. "She said her brother was the one who stole it."

"I see. And who might this brother be?" the man said, beginning to look annoyed.

"I…don't know," he stammered. "She never told me his name."

"You don't know?" the man said, incredulous. "You came here looking for a man and you don't even know his _name?_ I do hope whoever hired you hasn't paid much. Not worth a copper! But I'm bored of this now. I won't tell you again…get out of here before I turn you into mulch for my flowers."

"I know _your_ name," Finn said bluntly. "Rumar Trevalan. And I haven't got the wrong house. Tell me what you know about this brother."

That had done it. In a very smooth and silent motion the guard shut the door. The woman tensed and the robed man gazed at Finn with eyes like ice.

"So you know something after all, and not something very good for you," he hissed. "Only my friends know my real name, and you aren't my friend. How do you know who I am?"

"Ione Valesa told me," Finn replied.

There wasn't anything else he could say. He knew he was in trouble. No way out of it now. But he didn't move a muscle, waiting to see what the man would do next.

"Well, then…I shall be sure to pay this Ione Valesa a visit. But first we need to deal with you. Haela, show our big ox here to the shambles."

The woman said nothing, but acted on her master's order without hesitation. Finn saw her reach into her jerkin. He could feel the dagger in her hand as surely as if it was in his own. He could trace the movement of her muscles and he knew where it was heading. He ducked and the dagger flew over his head, embedding itself into the wall.

 _"_ _Damn!_ _"_ the woman cried, but Finn had drawn his own blade. He didn't give her a second chance. He whirled and drew the blade down hard, slicing deep into the place where her neck met the shoulder. She made a sick noise as she collapsed to the floor.

 _"_ _Kill him!_ _"_ the robed man screamed, wiping the woman's spattered blood from his face. His guard responded in turn, leaping over the table to lock blades with Finn.

He was fast, and came close to knocking Finn's sword from his hand as he sliced at him with a dagger. The burning cold of steel sliced through his glove but Finn ignored it, the pain just making him move faster. He grabbed the man's off-arm and threw him down onto the ground. Finn's boot found his dagger-arm and his knee sank into the guard's neck, crushing his windpipe and pinning him helpless. He couldn't cry out but glared at Finn through black eyes.

Seeing his guards go down in a moment was too much for the robed man. He had drawn a weapon but thought the better of it. He turned tail, and ran fast as he could for the kitchen door.

Finn couldn't let him go. If that man escaped there'd be no safety for him anywhere. He lifted the dagger from the guard at his feet and plunged it into his chest. Finn didn't check to see if his blow had struck home; he didn't need to.

He jumped to his feet and chased the man out the door, leaping on him like a lion just as he reached the back gate. The man grunted as Finn's weight dragged him to the ground, but before he could scream Finn's arm was around his neck. He jerked the man's head as hard as he could, and felt the snap of bone under his fingers.

Finn shut his eyes. His breath was ragged in his lungs. He let the man's lifeless body slump to the ground, and he slumped down with it.

...

They lay together in the snow and the stillness settled around them. Black mist was in front of Finn's eyes, but slowly it began to clear. The hunt was over, and the fear set in.

It was Kivan who taught him how to snap a man's neck like that. A quick and quiet way of dealing with bandits who weren't paying attention to their watch. But that man wasn't a bandit. Who the hells was he? No innocent, clearly. But that didn't matter. Finn needed to get out of there.

He dragged the man's body into the kitchen and dumped it next to his dead guards. Sweat was pouring over him now, and his hand was burning where the guard had cut him. But there was no need for a bandage; the blood had already ceased to flow. In his haste Finn bumped into the kitchen table, knocking over an oil lamp. He didn't stop to pick it up. He shut the kitchen door behind him and clambered back over the garden wall, thankful for the darkness which hid his flight.

He felt blind as he hurried through the city streets. Blind and shaking. Imoen's trouble was nothing compared to what he'd stirred up. What was he going to do? His stomach twisted in knots. As he walked the snow began to fall thick and fast again. Good, it would cover his tracks at least. But he still felt like there was a trail of glowing blood following him as he rushed to Ione's house.

He banged hard on the door, not even bothering with the knocker. It opened the first time and he stumbled inside, slamming the door shut before Ione could even appear.

She saw him and her mouth opened in surprise, but then she seemed to melt in concern.

"Oh, Finnigan! There is blood…are you injured? What has happened? Oh, I feel horrible for sending you alone into danger!"

 _"_ _Danger,_ _"_ Finn replied, wiping the melting snow from his face with his bloodied glove. "Fine thing to tell me now. That wasn't some measly informant. He had guards. Mean ones. Who in the hells did you send me after?"

"Forgive me," Ione said. "I had hoped… Come into the parlour. I will tend to your wounds, and you will tell me what happened."

He didn't have much choice but to follow her. The fire was up again, at least, even though the room was still dim from lack of light. This time though, Finn didn't mind. It made the bloodstains harder to see.

At Ione's insistence he shed his bloody gloves and cloak, dropping them in a pile on the hearth.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked, letting her hand slide down his stained jerkin.

"Just my hand, here," Finn said, examining the wound. "Don't worry, I'll be alright."

He stepped back from her without knowing why. Ione wiped her hand on her dress, smearing the white silk with red.

"Oh, my…" she whispered.

"Sorry…sorry," Finn said distractedly.

"Take that off, now, and sit down," she said.

He pulled off his leather jerkin and his wool outer tunic, but left his under-tunic on. His trousers were spattered with blood as well, but he wasn't about to take _those_ off.

Finn sat down as directed, and waited while Ione filled a basin with water. She came and sat on the floor next to him, and dipped his hand in the water. It was cold, ice cold, and made him shudder. Ione did not seem to notice.

"There. That will help," she said, her eyes fixed on the cut on his hand.

"Cheers," he said. "I'll be alright."

He spoke as if saying it would make it true. He couldn't care less about his hand; it wasn't a deep cut, and the pestilence in his blood would heal it by morning. But when he shut his eyes Finn could still see the blood flowing, staining the kitchen in red.

"My warrior, do not drift away from me," Ione said.

The sound of her voice brought Finn back to himself. She now held his hand in hers, a mere inch from her mouth. A light smile was on her lips, and they gently parted. Her watery blue eyes were burning bright as they gazed at him. Finn jerked and pulled his hand away.

 _"_ _I_ _'_ _m married,_ _"_ he blurted.

Ione's eyes lit up, and her laughter rang out like bells.

"Oh, my! Did you think I was about to seduce you?" she cried.

 _"_ _Erm,_ sorry, no…" Finn said, feeling his face flaming red.

"That is good," she said, still laughing. "I was merely concerned for your well-being. You seemed to retreat into yourself…though I suppose you have had a traumatic evening."

"You might say that," he said. "I left three dead bodies behind me. Now do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

His embarrassment had vanished. Ione forced down her smile and slowly went to set next to him on the sofa.

"Yes. I owe you an apology. That man was perhaps more _dangerous_ than I had implied. But I did not want you to be alarmed, and regardless I was certain you could deal with him."

"But I _haven_ _'_ _t_ dealt with him!" Finn cried. "I didn't get a word out of him. He said he didn't know anything about a circlet, and I believe him. He's dead. That's all. Unless…that's what you wanted in the first place."

He hadn't thought of it before, but now the truth was smacking him in the face and taunting him. All she really wanted was an assassin. A _gullible_ assassin. And did she ever find one.

"Calm yourself, my warrior," Ione said soothingly. "I did not send you forth simply to kill a man. Rather I wanted to see…what could be learned."

"And what have we learned, exactly?" Finn spat, pulling away his arm where she had started to caress his tunic.

"More than you could imagine," she replied.

Her voice had dropped to a whisper and she once again gave him that look. Finn jumped up from the sofa.

"Well, now. I'm glad it's been enlightening for you. But I might well have a murder charge hanging over my head, assuming that fellow's mates don't get to me first. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll call it a night."

"Oh, don't leave…" she said as Finn began to roughly pull on his bloodied clothes.

"Just watch me go!" he said.

"You are being rash," she replied. "Are you not even going to demand your gold?"

 _"_ _Shove your gold up your arse!_ _"_ Finn bellowed, practically screaming in her ear. "I'm not a hired killer. Just get away from me, bitch, before I…"

He broke off. He could feel the black beginning to wrap its tentacles around his neck. He needed to get out of there. Ione had stepped back from him, her eyes wide, but what her expression was he couldn't say.

 _"_ _I see,_ _"_ she said slowly. "I can understand why you think you have been tricked, so I will ignore your outburst. But you must realise that I am in as much of a position to help you now, as you are to help me."

 _"_ _Help, help_ _…_ _Know the Flaming Fist, do you?_ _"_ he growled.

"I know things well enough," Ione said. "Tell me, what do you have in your pouch? It is heavy like gold."

Finn looked quickly to his belt. He'd forgotten all about Imoen's jewels, but they were still there.

"None of your damn business," he said.

Ione smiled. "It _is_ my business, Finn. But since you refuse to answer, I will do it for you. A necklace, set with three large rubies framed in pearls. And a lady's ruby ring, inscribed with a dedication to Sune."

It was Finn's turn to stare.

"How in all the hells do you know that?" he exclaimed.

 _"_ _Because_ _…_ _I told her._ _"_

Finn heard a quiet voice by the door. He shut his eyes and began to feel sick. When he opened them he saw Imoen standing next to the elven woman. Finn stared at her and she looked away.

"This is all just…a bad dream," he groaned.

"Not a dream, I'm afraid. But together we can stop it from turning into a nightmare," Ione said. "Your sister called on me a short while ago, and presented me with a tale of woe. Rest assured, I am quite capable of helping with your situations…both of them…but in return you must do as I ask. There is more work yet to be done, my young friends."

"She said she'd pay us, Finn," Imoen said, though her voice sounded rather helpless.

"Pay us, aye," he muttered. But what price would she ask in return? He slid back down onto the sofa and rubbed his aching head in his hands.

...

He had more than enough for one night. He needed to get back home. Ione said farewell to them willingly enough; she must have known they'd be back sooner rather than later. Finn and Imoen walked in silence through the snowy streets, back towards their house.

He half expected the Flaming Fist to be waiting for the both of them. But most people decided to stay indoors that night, and they saw barely a soul on the streets. Finn had turned his cloak inside out to hide the blood, and he kept it tight around him until they were safely locked in their room.

Imoen stared; in the full light they could both get a view of how much of a mess he was. But she said nothing, and looked to the floor as Finn ripped off his stained clothes. He pulled on his spare trousers and did his best to wash the blood from his face and hair..

He could burn his clothes. His boots and jerkin he could wipe down; they were dark and wouldn't show any sign of blood. But there was no way to escape the wraiths that Finn felt hovering around his head. As he washed they grew closer and closer, laughing in his ear. He threw himself down onto his knees in the middle of the room, gnashing his teeth and trying hard not to start screaming.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Imoen choked. Finn looked up to see her pale, frightened face. He breathed hard, forcing himself to calm down.

"Why did you do it, Im?" he asked helplessly. "The jewels. Why?"

"You're asking _me?_ _"_ Imoen began, but paused. "I…I just got so fed up. I work and work and work, slave all day, and we've got nothing at all to show for it. Why should they have everything? Lady Brenell has so many jewels…she could never wear them all. I didn't think they'd be missed. How was I meant to know they were heirlooms…"

"So you just _stole_ them?" Finn interrupted.

"I did, and I don't care!" Imoen exclaimed, her pale face turning red. "I don't feel guilty. Not like that. Lady Brenell is a horrible woman, she treats all the staff like a disease. I know I shouldn't have done it. But it just wasn't _fair._ _"_

 _"_ _Fair. Fair._ You want to tell me what's fair?" he cried. "What's fair got to do with anything? Some of us get handed a mountain of gold, others get buried under horse shite. That's life. You think I want cursed blood? You got a choice, Imoen, I don't. And you go along, and mess everything up…"

 _"_ _Mess it up?_ What is there to mess up?" she said, practically shouting. "Look at us, we're in the slums! And you just sit there and bloody feel sorry for yourself, all day long! I've had enough of this! I want… I want…"

 _"_ _What?_ _"_

"Anything!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "If I wanted to spend the rest of my life waiting on snotty nobles I'd have stayed at Candlekeep. There's got to be more out there."

"So you're going to find it in prison?" Finn replied.

"Well, I'll be right there with you, then! How can you even _sit_ there and make demands of me, when you just… When you…"

Even through her anger she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Just as well, for Finn was certain he could hear the sound of boots outside. He raised a harsh finger to his lips and Imoen froze, a look of fear on her face.

...

A knock sounded on the door. It was a quiet knock, not the insistent pounding of the Flaming Fist. Finn slowly went to the door, and slid open the bolt.

It was Jaheira.

"Good evening to you. I do hope I am not interrupting anything," she said levelly.

Finn groaned inwardly, not certain if he should be relieved or not. The druid had a cloak of dark green wrapped around her shoulders, and her sandy brown hair was braided back from her face like always. Her tone was calm though her hawk-eyes were shining bright.

"No…no. Come in," he said in a voice to fool no one. "We were just having a bit of a row. About money."

It wasn't entirely false. Jaheira entered the room without another word, nodding her head at Imoen who retreated to the corner like a guilty child. Finn remembered something of manners in time to draw out a chair, but Jaheira remained standing.

"Cold night. Khalid not with you?" he asked absently.

"No, there was someone he needed to speak with. We just returned to the city today, and I thought I would see how you were faring. But my timing could be better."

"Good of you to call, anyway," Finn said.

Imoen still said nothing. Jaheira glanced at her and the girl turned her eyes to the floor.

"I believe I will sit," the woman said, almost to herself. "Do you have anything to drink in this place? It is a cold night, as you said."

 _"_ _Ah,_ we're dried up here, unfortunately. Not got a drop. Sorry, we weren't expecting company," he apologised.

"Never mind," Jaheira said. "Imoen…perhaps you would be so kind as to step out to the tavern for some wine? You might bring back food, as well…I have not eaten since breakfast."

She fetched some coins out of her belt and placed them lightly on the table. Finn wasn't sure how hungry any of them actually were at the moment, but there wasn't much Imoen could say. She scooped up Jaheira's gold and bundled herself up before heading out the door in silence.

Finn watched her go with some trepidation, but Jaheira seemed to sense his mood.

"Do not worry. She will be safe."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Because Khalid is in the street, watching."

Finn looked up, surprised. A half-smile flickered over Jaheira's face, but it quickly disappeared.

"But now, I must ask you to tell me what you were truly arguing about."

Finn's knuckles clenched on the table.

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

"That is understandable. But I do not think there is anything you need to hide from me. And, it is quite obvious you were not simply having a row about money. Tell me, Finn."

"Jaheira, it's…nothing, alright?" he said. "Just…problems. We'll sort it out. Somehow."

"I see," she said quietly. "Do you still have the jewels?"

Finn looked up, startled. Jaheira's face was stony and calm.

"By all the hells, does the entire world know about this?" he groaned.

He didn't ask how Jaheira knew. She was a Harper; she probably knew about it before the Flaming Fist did. They weren't for nothing if not putting their nose in people's business. He reached into his pouch and placed the heavy bundle on the table with a thud. Jaheira let out a long sigh, but she said nothing as she took the bundle and placed it into her own bag.

"What's going to happen to Imoen?" he rasped.

"Nothing, I hope. We will do what we can."

"Thanks," he managed to say.

"We will do what we can," Jaheira repeated, clearing her throat.

"What, that's it? No lecture?" Finn said. He let out a laugh, but it fell flat. Jaheira was being awfully quiet.

"There is…something else," she began. "We…have friends in this city, as I am sure you know. And when we come home these friends tell us what _their_ friends have heard. And just a short while ago, one of these friends came to tell us of something that occurred today."

"What?" Finn asked, feeling his throat beginning to close.

"There was a fire…a house in the south of the city caught alight."

"That's a shame," he said.

"Indeed. But this, it seems, was not an ordinary house. For in the cellar the searchers found a large cache of weapons. Swords, crossbows…all marked as property of the Flaming Fist."

"He was stealing _weapons?_ _"_ Finn remarked, then hastily shut his mouth. Jaheira looked at him intently, but continued with her little story.

"They also found three bodies. And although they were badly burned, it seemed clear that they had met a violent end."

"Yeah?" Finn said. He could barely speak.

"Yes. For while it is not widely known, my friends believe the owner of this house was smuggling stolen weapons into Amn. And while we cannot be certain, we believe these weapons were to be delivered into the hands of the Shadow Thieves."

 _"_ _Shadow Thieves?_ _"_ he exclaimed, finally finding his voice.

He rose up from the table, then crumpled back down again. This was getting worse every moment.

"Understandably, these are not people to trifle with," Jaheira said, her voice growing harder. "This man was a major contact of theirs in this region. There will be recriminations against whoever is responsible. Which is why, Finnigan…You will tell me _what in Silvanus_ _'_ _name you were doing there._ _"_

Finn looked up to see those green eyes drilling a hole into him. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't deny it. Blast it all, did the Harpers see everything?

"How…how did you know?" he choked.

"I did not. But the neighbours saw a man matching your description fleeing the scene before the fire. These people do not open up to the Flaming Fist, but our comrades are not adverse to sharing their gold. I did not want to think… I could not think… I _prayed_ it was not true, but I should have known better. What could possibly have involved you with this man? Why were you there? And please, tell me… _Oh,_ do not answer. I can see it in your eyes. Finn, _what has happened here?_ _"_

Jaheira stood up from the table and banged her fists into the wood like it was his head. Finn had seen her in some bad moods but the rage on her face was something to behold.

 _"_ _That woman_ _…_ _I_ _'_ _m going to kill her_ _…"_ Finn groaned.

 _"_ _Do not speak that way!_ _"_ Jaheira shouted. She gathered herself somewhat, and drew in a shaking breath. "Tell me. Tell me what happened. Tell me everything, Finn, and leave nothing out."

...

He didn't have much choice. He told her the story of the past few days, about Ione Valesa, of her note and her strange house, and her claims to the lost circlet. Jaheira listened in stony silence, and only the sound of her breathing punctuated his tale. She was silent even after he finished, but at last she spoke.

"At least you killed in self-defence, although even that is a dubious claim, considering you broke into his house," Jaheira remarked. "But the death of a few criminals is not truly what concerns me here. This Valesa woman…what does she truly want? Her story of a missing artefact seems a sham to me."

"I agree," Finn said. "Don't think there ever was a circlet. She was just looking to hire someone to get rid of an enemy. And idiot me couldn't see that from the first."

"Are you certain?" Jaheira replied. "She seems wealthy, and assassins are not too difficult to find. Why concoct an elaborate story to enlist your aid, of all people?"

"She wanted a scapegoat, then. Someone to take the blame."

"Perhaps… But there is another possibility, one you seem to have overlooked. Perhaps it was _you_ she is truly after."

"Me? Why? I've never met the woman."

"Ack, sometimes I do think you are naïve," Jaheira snapped. "Naïve, or a damned fool. Is it not obvious? Or do you need reminding? _You._ What you are. _Who_ you are."

"I haven't forgotten, thanks," Finn growled. "Not like I don't think about it every minute of the day! But what could she possibly want with me? I don't have anything to offer."

"I do not know. But there are those who could still make use of you. Always, always you must be wary!" she exclaimed, then sighed deeply. "In truth though, I blame myself."

"You're saying this is your fault?" he remarked.

"Of course not," she said. "You are not a child, you must show some responsibility for your own actions. And yet… We knew this day would come. It was only a matter of time before someone moved against you. The power that lies within you would be too much for some to resist. But we did not think it would be so soon. Khalid and I should have better prepared you."

"I know well enough how to swing a sword by now," Finn said grimly.

"You can fight, yes, but there are other, more subtle battles to be fought. I do not know what this woman wants with you, but she needs to be stopped. Khalid and I will call on her, and we will deal with this."

There was a grimness in her own tone that set him on edge. Finn shook his head.

"No. No one is going to be fighting my battles for me. You're right. If it's me this woman wants, then it's me she's going to get!"

"What do you have planned?" Jaheira said. "Are you simply going to charge in, and…"

"Is that any different than what you had planned? No. She said she had more work for us. I'm going to find out what it is. I'm going to find out what she wants."

"Do not be a fool! You will walk straight into her trap."

"Who says there's a trap?" Finn replied, his gaze meeting hers. "I won't do anything without your permission. I _promise._ _"_

"Your insolence is…" she began. "But very well. Perhaps it may be for the best. But we will be shadowing you, you can be certain of that."

Oh, he was certain. He was as certain of that as he could be of anything. They sat in silence until the sound of steps appeared on the stairs. Imoen came in, her arms filled with bundles. And right on her heels was Khalid.

"Look who I met downstairs," the girl said, breathless as she dropped her parcels.

"Y-yes, I f-finished my task earlier than p-planned," Khalid replied.

He placed a pair of bottles on the table. He looked at Finn and Jaheira with a smile, though his eyes had a rather wary look about them.

"I trust all is well?" Jaheira asked, keeping up the thin pretence. "But I think, perhaps, it is time for us to go. It is getting rather late."

"What, you're leaving already? What about the food?" Imoen said, puzzled.

"Yes. My apologies, again. You may help yourselves…I am not as hungry as I thought. We will speak to you soon, however. Goodnight."

Finn didn't reply, and Khalid likewise seemed to have nothing to say about their abrupt exit. Imoen showed them out in surprise, then bolted the door behind them.

"Well… To be honest, I'm glad they didn't hang around," she said quietly, once sure the Harpers were beyond earshot. "I'm not really… In the mood."

"No," Finn said.

He said nothing else, and Imoen began slowly opening the parcels. There was chicken there, and roasted potatoes, and even a thick slice of batter pudding. Finn didn't feel at all hungry, and Imoen only nibbled at the food. She soon packed the leftovers into the cupboard and retreated into her alcove for the night.

Finn though had one last task. He crouched in the dark, feeding his bloody clothes to the fire. The flames snapped and smoked, the Abyssal demons clearly pleased with the sacrifice. At last there was nothing left but ash. He retreated to his mattress and pulled the curtain round him in silence.


	4. Running

_Next week's update might be late...half term coming up!_

 _..._

Finn slept hard that night. When he woke his mind was clear for one blissful moment, but then the blood came flowing back. He tried to force the images away, but neither they nor the bright morning could be denied. He sat up and drew open the curtain, surprised to see Imoen dressed and sitting at the table.

"Good morning," she said, making an attempt at cheer.

"Morning," he replied, rubbing his stiff neck.

"You slept like a rock last night," she remarked. "You didn't even shift when I went out this morning."

"Why, where did you go?"

"Just out to the markets. Do you want some breakfast? I've got loads of food here!"

She stirred up a pot of boiled wheat that had been sitting over the embers. There were dates and cream, and a slab of good bacon that smelled remarkable as it sizzled in the pan. There was ale, too, the good stuff from The Green Man pub. Faced with all that his appetite came roaring back. It was a breakfast fit for a king, and Finn devoured it all.

"Where'd you get the coin for this?" he said after another mouthful. "Jaheira didn't give you all that much last night."

"Oh, that Ione gave me some coin yesterday," she replied, turning her back to him.

"Coin for what?"

"Just…coin. A little advance, that's all. Enough to fill up the cupboard a bit, at least!"

Her cheerful manner didn't fool him, though.

"Imoen… What did she say to you? Does she want you to do something?"

"No, no. Don't worry about it. It's nothing, really. No daggers involved!"

"Imoen, I'm serious here. Stay away from that woman," Finn said, setting down his knife. "She's trouble. Jaheira thinks that…"

 _"_ _Jaheira_ thinks?" she interrupted. "What, you didn't tell her, did you?"

She looked at him in surprise, her face grown white with genuine shock.

"Tell her, she bloody knew everything already!" he exclaimed. "She knew about your little snatch. And she knew about… _yesterday_ , too."

"So what…what are they going to do?" Imoen stammered.

"I don't know," Finn said quietly. "They said they'd help. Jaheira took your…you know. Said she'd deal with it. But you need to stay away from that woman, all right?"

"Oh, it's good to hear that _now!_ _"_ the girl cried, jumping up from her chair.

"Why, what did you do?"

"Do? Never mind what I did, I'm going to die, that's what!" she cried again. "She's going to kill me! She'll kill me dead, and that's it!"

"That woman isn't going to touch you," Finn said. "I'll kill her myself before…"

"Not her!" Imoen said dismissively. "No, it's… _What is that?_ _"_

 _..._

For as she spoke a red fog was seeping under the door. Imoen screamed and retreated into the corner, but the mist seemed to be directing itself straight towards her. Finn could only stare, frozen in surprise. The mist flowed around Imoen before dissipating, leaving a bright red mark on the palms of her hands.

The next moment the door burst open. A woman stood there, tall and terrible in her purple mage robe. She pointed a finger straight at the frightened girl.

 _"_ _You!_ _"_ Dynaheir exclaimed. "You are the thief! Deny it not, Imoen…my spell has tracked you like a hound!"

"Get her away from me!" Imoen shrieked.

 _"_ _Dynaheir?_ _"_ Finn cried, trying to make some sense of what was going on. "What in the blazes? All right, everyone settle down!"

"I shall _not_ settle down," the mage cried in return. "Dost thou know of the penalty for stealing from the Wychlaran _?_ Death, by disintegration!"

 _"_ _Nobody_ _'_ _s disintegrating anybody!_ _"_ Finn said, placing himself between the cowering girl and the incensed mage. "Now does someone want to tell me what this is all about?"

"This fool of a child has stolen my book!" Dynaheir exclaimed.

"Book…what…you don't mean _that_ book?"

"Yes, _that_ book! Now return it to me, before I summon the justice of the ghosts of Rashemen!"

She raised her hands and they became cloaked in magical energy. Imoen squealed and ducked into another corner.

 _"_ _Stop, stop!_ _"_ Finn cried again. He didn't think that Dynaheir would really hurt Imoen, but by the look on her face he didn't want to find out. "Imoen, just give her back the book!"

"I don't have it!" she said.

"Do not lie!" Dynaheir demanded.

"I'm not lying! Alright, I took it, okay? I'm sorry. But I don't have it anymore. I didn't think there would be any harm. Not like it's really worth anything…"

"Not worth anything?" Finn interrupted. "Only near to a hundred gold! I should know, I bought it myself."

 _"_ _Oh,_ _"_ Imoen said. "Dynaheir…I'm so sorry."

"Apologies mean little to me, child," the mage replied. "Not without the book in thy hands. _Where_ is it? Hast thou sold it?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Finn said.

He grunted and sat back down at the table. Dynaheir cancelled her spell and no longer seemed on the verge of turning Imoen to dust, though her eyes were still glowing with incensed rage. The girl slowly emerged from her corner.

"I didn't sell it… Not really. I'm sure we can get it back. I didn't know, I really didn't know it was worth anything! She just said she wanted to borrow it, that's all…"

"Who? _Oh_ , don't tell me!" Finn said.

"Yeah. Sorry," Imoen replied.

"Then you both seem to know the name of this person, though I am none the wiser," Dynaheir said.

"You want to explain, Imoen?" he said, rubbing his head.

"Right, well… There's just this _lady._ She said there was this book Dynaheir had that she really needed to read, but Dynaheir wouldn't let the book out of her sight. She knew we were friends, I guess, how I don't know, but… She just wanted to borrow it, that's all. She said that Dynaheir wouldn't even know it was gone. So I slipped in last night, though that little window at the top of the stairs. I meant to bring it back, I did! But…"

"And this woman's name?" Dynaheir demanded. "The one for whom you decided to break the trust of friendship?"

"Ione Valesa. She's an elf."

Dynaheir's eyes narrowed again. Finn thought she recognised the name, but the mage stayed silent.

"I am _so so_ sorry," Imoen pleaded again. "I didn't really want to do it. But I just… I mean, we…"

"I think what she means is we've been having some _trouble_ here," Finn said. "Things are a bit…hectic. But we'll get your book back, I swear it. Just give us a bit of time. Please."

Dynaheir folded her arms into her long sleeves. She hadn't even worn a cloak; the cold clearly was of no concern to her.

"So you plan on speaking with this woman?" she asked.

"Yes, of course."

The mage looked at the wall and scowled.

"No," she said, unexpectedly. "Do not go seeking this book."

"I don't understand," Imoen said. "You don't want it anymore?"

"So you're just going to let her keep it?" Finn said too. "You spent a fortune on it!"

"The gold is not important," the mage replied. "And I trust you will not be sneaking through windows again, Imoen?"

"Don't worry. I won't," she said earnestly. "I'm so sorry, again…"

"That is enough," Dynaheir said, raising her hand. "Thy are forgiven. Now I must bid you both fair morning. I left my master alone in the shop, and he can scarce climb the ladder to fetch a book. Good day."

She whirled around and swiftly departed, another guest in a rush. After she went Imoen let out a long breath.

"By the gods! I'm glad that's over. I feel awful, I do. I suppose you're going to lecture me now?"

"No," Finn said grimly. "I'm going out."

Imoen didn't ask where he was going. Finn wasn't sure himself. He just needed air in his lungs.

...

He walked the streets blindly, not really seeing where he was going. There were too many if's and maybe's. The past year had been nothing but a series of endless games of blind man's bluff, and he was fed up with it. He was going to get answers. Today.

He turned around and made for Ione Valesa's house. He banged hard with the knocker, but in spite of his insistence the door never opened. The place was still shut up tight. Finn banged again and growled in frustration. He considered breaking a window, but thought the better of it. With his current issues raising the ire of the law was the last thing he needed. So instead he turned his attention to Dynaheir.

He wanted to know what was so important about that book. Why in all the hells would Ione Valesa have Imoen steal it? It wasn't the gold, surely. Maybe she just wanted to see how far she could push them. By getting his sister into more trouble she'd stand a better chance of manipulating him. Assuming that was what she wanted, at least. None of it made any sense.

The mage was alone in her shop as usual. Dynaheir glanced up, startled as he forcefully opened the door.

"Ah, Finn," she began.

"I'm here about the book," he said, not bothering to say hello.

"You have found it?" she asked.

"No. I want to know why Ione Valesa was so desperate to get her hands on it. And why you wanted it enough to pay a hundred gold for it in the first place."

Dynaheir looked surprised by his blunt questioning. She rose up from the table where she had been reading and stepped forward, but kept her eyes on the floor.

"It is a rare volume…"

"And it's gone a bit rarer these days," he interrupted.

"By courtesy of thy Imoen," Dynaheir flashed back.

"I'm sorry about that. But I don't think she did it on a whim, and she sure didn't take it for her own reading. This Valesa woman directed her to do it. But why?"

"Surely, she is the one you must ask," the mage replied. "It is I who have been wronged, not thee. Yet you come to my shop and make demands like an officer of the law? I will not tolerate this."

Her dark eyes were lit like fire; a queen taken offence to a churlish peasant. But Finn could sense a nervousness in her manner just the same. She knew more than she was telling, he was sure of it.

"You know who she is, don't you? You were ready to fry Imoen alive over stealing that book, but the moment you heard her name you ran for the door. I need to know, Dynaheir. It's important."

"Thy questioning is tiresome," she said, flinging a stray lock back over her shoulder. "But there is some truth in what thy say. I do know her name, though we have not met. She is a _collector_ of sorts, with an interest in rare tomes. That is all."

"But that still doesn't explain why you let it drop so fast," Finn remarked.

"No. But in truth, I had already learned all I needed from that tome. My rage had less to do with the loss of the book itself, than it was so easily taken from me. I have let down my guard, and I shall not allow it to happen again."

Finn looked at her hands. There was some sort of silver ink traced over her palms, elaborate designs worked into runes he didn't recognise. They shimmered like water as she spoke. Dynaheir followed his gaze, and quickly hid her hands in the folds of her robe.

"Now, I have nought more to say to thee. I bid thee to leave this place."

"Alright," Finn said slowly. "But something is still fishy here, and we aren't on the docks. I'm sorry, Dynaheir."

Why he was apologising, he didn't really know. The mage drew in a deep breath.

"I say again, do not go seeking this book. Good day."

Her earlier advice repeated, Dynaheir showed him the door. As he left the shop Finn heard the sound of the bolt sliding across the frame. He stiffened and made his way down the slushy, snow-covered street.

...

Dynaheir's admonition weighed on his mind. If he hadn't held this book in his hands he might have been convinced it was truly some journal of profane magical power, not a worm-eaten old travel diary. But there was something in there both those women wanted. And seeing as Finn wasn't likely to get an answer out of either one of them, he decided to go back to the one place where he might stand a chance.

"Oh, I see you have returned," the bookseller said, clearly surprised at Finn's entrance. "Is there another tome I can help you with today?"

"No…" Finn replied. "But I wonder if maybe we could have a chat? It's about the book."

"Well, I am expecting Lady Devaine any moment…but I could spare some time. There is not a problem, I hope?"

"It's hard to say," Finn replied. "Look, have you read this book?"

"Yes… Years ago. I have read all of Holkenar's works at some point. Why do you ask?"

"I…don't know," he stammered. "I just wanted to know… Is there anything odd about it? Something out of the ordinary. Why is it worth so much?"

"Do you not know? You purchased it," the man said with a little laugh. "You have not read it yet, I take it?"

"Um, no. Just tell me if there's anything strange about this book, if you can? Anything to make note of."

 _"_ _Strange?_ _"_ the bookseller remarked. "My good man, I am not certain of what you are asking. The book is valuable on account of its age and rarity, that much should be obvious. _The Mists of Mir_ was one of Holkenar's lesser works, and copies are very rarely seen. But _strange?_ I do not know…"

His assistant appeared to ask his opinion on some matter, and Finn waited impatiently while the two discussed a folio. It was pointless. How could he ask, if he didn't even know what he was asking for? He was wasting both their time. But the assistant departed and the man drew in a breath.

"Pardon the interruption," he said. "But since you have asked… There is one chapter which stood out in my mind. I had forgotten till you mentioned it. Holkenar was particularly fond of folk tales, and he related the story of a temple hidden within a deep swamp. A cursed temple, where wicked deeds were carried out. There was a story of two local children… Well, I remember I found it particularly disturbing, that tale. I'm not sure if that's what you are alluding to?"

"What…temple was it?" Finn heard himself say.

"You mean, what god was it dedicated to? Why, it was the Lord of Murder. Bhaal."

Finn didn't hear anything else. He felt a heat rising from somewhere within his stomach, and his heart began to pound.

"…I say, are you all right?" he heard the man speak. The voice was vague, like it was coming through the end of a tunnel. Finn jerked his head and the rush of blood faded, leaving him feeling cold.

 _"_ _Aye,_ _"_ he somehow managed to say.

"That is good, you looked almost faint… Ah, Lady Devaine! A pleasure it is to see you, as always. I have the new bindings ready for your inspection…"

Finn made haste from the shop, nearly knocking over the well-dressed woman who had just entered. He ignored her indignant exclamation as he hurried out into the street. He burst into a run, not knowing where he was going, or why.

It wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be. The book Dynaheir and the elven woman were both so keen on just _happened_ to contain a mention of a temple devoted to Bhaal? Jaheira thought that Ione Valesa might know what he was…but did that mean Dynaheir did, too?

How could she? Finn himself had no idea of his heritage back when Minsc and Dynaheir were travelling with them; and of the few people who knew his secret he didn't think it too likely any of them would raise that _particular_ nugget in conversation. Not even Imoen. _Was_ it Imoen? The girl couldn't keep her gob shut for half a minute. But not even Imoen, surely.

...

Finn stopped running and crashed into an alley. He leaned against the brick wall of a house, breathing heavily. Sarevok's death was supposed to be the end of everything. He'd be free…no more hunters or assassins, no one stalking his every move. He and Anna could have the life they were meant to have…but it was all a dream.

There was no end to it. Not as long as _he_ was still there. The cursed blood of Bhaal lived on, pumping through his veins and filling his mind with black thoughts, nightmare visions he couldn't escape. He sent his own wife away out of the fear of what he might do to her in the night…when he slipped, and lost control…he wanted to hold her face in his hands, not wake to find them wrapped around her bruised neck. Not again.

He was a Bhaalspawn, and there would never be any peace. He was never _meant_ to have peace. It was no bad luck, no coincidence that death followed him everywhere he went. It was drawn to him…bad blood. It was thick as tar, black as the night, and it would never, _ever_ let him go.

Finn choked, letting out a sob into the freezing air. A weight was crushing him, the weight of a hundred corpses pressing down onto him, driving him into the ground. But then, somehow, he thought of Gorion. The old man was forever telling him, _always look to the hour_ _'_ _s work to be done._

Life at Candlekeep had been so ordered. At every hour the temple bell rang, directing the monks to a new task. Work in the morning, work in the afternoon, work at night. That regimentation always drove him mad; the monks needed a bell to tell them when to wake and sleep, when to eat, they couldn't even sit on the chamber pot without a bell, or so it seemed.

Now though he could see the purpose. The whole was too much, but take a little at a time, and the job would be done. The only difference was that Finn wasn't waist-deep in tomes of knowledge. He was fighting for his continued existence. He was fighting _against_ his existence. Each challenge needed to be met anew. He knew that, though in all the chaos he had forgotten.

Then take it one thing at a time. Dynaheir was a friend, or so he thought; by Ione Valesa wasn't. And when she came back, they would have words. She would tell him what he wanted to know.

Finn straightened up and hurried back to his lodgings. The clouds had broken a little over the course of the afternoon, allowing a winter sunset to reflect off the snow in shades of purple and blue. Imoen was gone now, but somehow he had an idea of where she was.

He went to the corner and tore open the loose floorboards. Sarevok's blade was still there, waiting for him. The blade took two hands for even him to wield, but it had a speed that belied its size. No coarse weapon was this; the detailing showed craftsmanship of the highest order, even if the swordsmith who forged it had a heart as black as the steel he hammered. The runes etched into the blade glowed faintly in red and gold, a curse, an incantation of death.

Finn seized the hilt and felt power rippling down his arm. He had no scabbard to hold Sarevok's blade; that had been buried with its master in the ancient temple where he fell. So instead he slid it into a simple leather sheath he strapped onto his back. He removed Khalid's old sword and leaned it against the table. It slid to the floor and Finn didn't bother to pick it up.

He stepped back out into the darkening air. He didn't feel the cold; his blood was flowing fast and his cloak seemed more like a hindrance than a comfort. He set off in a rush towards Ione Valesa's house, but soon slackened his pace.

There were footsteps behind him, a gait to match his own. They were light of foot but he could hear them just the same. No one hailed him and no on approached, but Finn knew he was being followed.

He didn't turn around. There was more than one by the sound of it. Finn shut his eyes. _Three._ Three men were following him. He didn't ask himself how he could know that with such surety; he gave up asking that sort of question long ago. When his blood was hot strange things were bound to happen.

But tonight he didn't feel like denying his pursuers their target. There was a house up ahead, once a large building of brick, but left little more than a shell by the quake. He turned, and let himself in the front door as casually as if it had been his own home.

...

Finn stood in the shadows, waiting for whoever was to appear. He didn't have long to wait. Two men followed him in, their faces concealed by their hoods.

"Evening, lads," Finn said to them.

"Good evening," the foremost replied. "An odd place to stop. Have you a meeting here? Or just a call of nature, perhaps."

"Just thought I'd stop to take a breather," Finn answered.

"Then I do hope you enjoy your breath. It will soon be your last," the man said.

Finn saw the flash of a dagger as it emerged from under his cloak, but he didn't move.

"Just like that, then?" he said. "Hope it isn't my purse you're after. Not worth the cowhide it's made of, to be sure."

"This is not a robbery, though it will be made to look like one," the man assured him. "It is vengeance. Inconveniencing our organisation is rather bad for your health. I do not know the reason you killed Trevalan, but his death has put us in a bit of a spot. The cause is not so important here, as the _effect._ _"_

"You figured that out? I shouldn't be surprised, half the world knows what I get up to. For whatever its worth, I didn't want to kill him. Truth be told, I'm not even sure of the reason I was there myself. Somebody sent me. I was just there to talk, nothing else," Finn told him.

"Spare me your excuses. We have been following you ever since you visited that elven woman's home. Our _enquiries_ led to her door, and lo and behold, here you come, the fellow who matches the description of his killer perfectly."

"So you've come to finish me off, then," Finn said grimly. "Get your little revenge."

"You will be the first, but not the last. All in your organisation shall feel the cold of steel tonight!"

"What _organisation?_ _"_ Finn began, but the man wasn't in the mood for further explanation.

He raised a hand in some sort of signal. Finn had a sudden awareness of someone behind him. The third man had crept in through the back of the house, keeping well to the shadows. Finn whirled but it was too late, the man's dagger too fast. Finn groaned feeling the steel sink deep into his side.

No doubt it had been meant for his back, but it didn't matter; the pain was bad enough. Finn crashed into the man, knocking him off his feet. He pulled Sarevok's blade from its sheath and took a swing at him. His ribs screamed in pain at the movement but he brought the sword down with all his force. But the man rolled to safety just before the blade came down.

 _"_ _On him!_ _"_ the first man hissed. Finn stumbled back against the wall, his foot slipping in his own blood. One of the men had strung a bow; he needed to move before that lad turned him into a pincushion. He made a dive just before the bow twanged and the arrow sailed off into the darkness.

 _"_ _Cor!_ He's a slippery one," the man with the bow exclaimed.

"Does it matter?" the first man replied, angry. "Kill him!"

Those men weren't stupid. They weren't about to go head-to-head with him armed with only daggers. They stepped back and spread out, well beyond the reach of his blade. Finn needed to get closer or he'd stand no chance. He lunged towards the man who'd stuck a knife in his side, but he scampered away over the rubble nimbly as a cat.

"Can't catch me, boyo!" he taunted.

His wasted effort gave the man with the bow his chance. Finn cried out again feeling the arrow pierce his shoulder. It missed his neck by inches; the only luck he was likely to have left. Now he could barely raise his sword.

"That's it, bleed him out," the first man said. "Vanek, hit him again!"

Finn threw his body backwards, and the bowman cursed as his arrow missed. He felt like screaming as his body hit the rubble, but he forced himself to his feet. He yanked the arrow loose, feeling its bite again as he tore it from his flesh. An animal's instinct had taken over now, and Finn lunged at the man nearest to him.

It was their leader. His hood had been pushed back and Finn saw his face for one moment. His hair was dark and his eyes were cold-looking, but the man was no pushover. He managed to parry Finn's brutal strike with his dagger, twisting and stepping aside lightly as a dancer. But the force of Finn's blow caught him off his footing, and he stumbled over a broken brick. Finn struck again and this time he didn't miss.

He could feel Sarevok's blade slashing through the man's flesh; he _felt it_ , not just the sensation of steel slicing through skin and bone, but a power, a sense of the life-force itself. It reverberated up the sword and into his arm, rippling through his body like a tuning fork. And as it came Finn could feel his own injuries lessen. He gasped with the sensation even as the man crumbled to the ground in pain.

 _"_ _Vanek_ _…_ _strike,_ _"_ he gurgled, but his command went unheeded. Finn struck again and finished the job.

Again that rush came _._ Finn straightened up and glared at the man with the bow. He could feel all his hatred pouring out of him, out into the air. The man's string was taught, aiming straight between the eyes. But his hands suddenly shook and the arrow flopped away helplessly into the shadows.

 _"_ _By the gods! Run! Run!_ _"_ he screamed, as if a demon had suddenly appeared before him. His surviving companion needed no encouragement, and the pair of them disappeared into the darkness like rats.

Finn's first urge was to chase them. He took a few steps then stumbled, throwing his entire body down into the snow. He breathed heavily, ragged and deep, trying hard to fight off the will that had taken over him. His body shook as he tried desperately to cage that beast, the one that had saved his life.

It wanted to hunt. _Blood_ _…_ _more blood_ _…_ Finn thought of that sensation that flowed up his arm when the blade struck home and it was all he could do to keep off his feet. _That damned blade_ _…_ _the curse._ It was worse than a harlot's call to a desperate man. But he couldn't fight now. He needed to put it back.

Finn lay still, gasping into the snow, trying to collect himself. The cold settled around him as the fire in his blood began to melt. _Shadow Thieves._ It was the first rational thought that came into his brain. Jaheira said that man had worked for the Shadow Thieves. Who else could those men be who ambushed him tonight? But the man had said they were after his _organisation._ Finn didn't have an organisation. But in spite of everything, he did have friends. And if they were following him, they would have seen where he went that day.

With a cry Finn forced himself up off the ground, his feet running fast as they could towards Minsc and Dynaheir's place.


	5. Between the Lines

He needed to warn them. Finn ran as fast as he could, slipping and sliding along the way. He nearly ran straight into an ox-cart but managed to slide out of the way just in time. The man waved his goad at him and shouted but Finn didn't hear what he said. He needed to get to his friends.

Supposing the Shadow Thieves had been there…? Minsc and Dynaheir were more than capable of defending themselves, but anyone can be caught unawares. Dynaheir at her books, Minsc at his stew pot; a knock on the door, they wouldn't be expecting assassins to call.

And it was all his bloody fault. _Again._ Everything that happened to him radiated out to the people he cared about. But there was no one to blame but himself. Jaheira was right; he ought to know better by now.

At last he found the alley behind the bookshop. Finn burst through the garden gate and pounded up the flimsy steps. He banged hard on the door. He tried the ring, but the door was bolted. He banged again, shouting for them to open up.

When the door finally flew open Finn nearly collapsed with relief seeing the great hulk of Minsc standing there.

 _"_ _What is this? Friend Finn!_ Boo wonders why you are knocking so loud. Do you need coin again?"

 _"_ _Coin_ _…_ _no_ _…_ _Minsc, let me in!_ _"_ he gasped.

The big man didn't have much choice as Finn fell onto the step. Minsc's hands seized him and dragged him inside.

"Coin, no, but he needs breath, Boo!" he proclaimed. "But Finn…Finn is covered in blood?"

The ranger looked at his stained hands in surprise. Dynaheir rushed to his side, kneeling over Finn as he lay on the rug.

"What has happened?" she exclaimed. "Hast thou been seeking the book?"

"No book has done this, Dynaheir!" Minsc informed her. "Boo sees the mark of daggers and arrows!"

"I'm alright," Finn gasped again. "I just…needed to get here fast."

"Minsc, there be potions of healing in the box under my bed. Fetch them," Dynaheir said. The man disappeared and she continued to examine Finn.

"I'm fine. Really," he assured her.

Finn pulled himself up into a sitting position, trying to hide the obvious slashes in his bloody clothes. Dynaheir leaned back and stared at him; her eyes were wide, but Finn couldn't tell if she was afraid.

Minsc returned with an armful of bottles, and Finn drank one at Dynaheir's insistence. He felt that heat wash over him and his ribs hurt a little less. Really though his own blood had already begun the potion's work. Cursed blood wasn't all bad, he had to admit.

"Tell us then what has happened," Dynaheir said.

Finn gritted his teeth. "Shadow Thieves. After me. I thought…they might be after you, too."

"Who are these thieves who hide in the shadows?" Minsc bellowed. "There is no greater sin than being a thief! Woe to them who would rob our friends, Boo! No thief would dare come here, where the heroes of Rashemen reside! Their thieving butts would be kicked, but good!"

Boo squeaked in agreement, or possibly because his excited master was holding him too tightly. But Dynaheir only looked more worried.

"Shadow Thieves? Dost thou speak true? I have heard rumours of their evil, which lives underground where no light may touch it. But why should they strike at thou? And why come here?"

"Because I killed a man," Finn replied.

He stared down at the rug; there wasn't anything more he could say about that.

"Who is this man Finn has killed?" Minsc said, still trying to clear his mind enough to understand the situation. "Was he a thief as well? That is no crime then, says Minsc and Boo!"

"The Flaming Fist might say otherwise," Finn remarked. "But, yeah…he was a thief, of sorts. It doesn't really matter. What matters is he's dead, and now the Shadow Thieves want revenge. Revenge on me, and anyone they think is connected to me."

"That is harsh, even for criminals," Dynaheir said. "This man must have been of great importance to them. But you did not say why thy killed him? That matters a great deal, I think."

"Because Ione Valesa sent me to his house," Finn replied, looking Dynaheir in the eye.

The mage started and looked away. Minsc though became even more animated.

"Whoever these thieves are, they will cry if they come here! They have struck our friend, and we will not forget it! Do not worry, Dynaheir, Minsc and Boo will protect you! Come, Boo, let us get our arms!"

He stomped off to his bedchamber, leaving Finn and Dynaheir alone. The mage was still staring off into space, and Finn wondered if she had even heard her protector's declaration.

"Are you going to tell me who she really is, now?" he said quietly.

"No," Dynaheir said. She started, and her hand let go of her throat. "But Minsc is correct. We must prepare for danger. I shall fetch my staff…"

"If you know something, tell me," Finn said.

He grabbed her by the arm to stop her rising. Dynaheir looked at him and her mouth opened, but she jerked her arm away.

"In my land, thy could be struck dead for touching me," she muttered.

"We're not in your land. And you've been threatening death a lot lately," Finn remarked.

"It is not a _threat,_ _"_ she hissed, her eyes suddenly locking with his. "It is everywhere. And thou…thou art soaked in it. I must fetch my staff."

She strode off to her chamber, leaving Finn sitting on the rug. He waited impatiently for a few minutes, his nerves getting up again. Why did Dynaheir insist on hiding the truth? What the hells did she know? But the mage and her secrets were not his main concern just then.

...

"I don't know if the thieves will come here tonight," he said when the pair had re-emerged. "But I needed to warn you. Now though I need to find Imoen."

He hadn't forgotten about his sister. She was out in the city somewhere, and the thieves could be after her as well.

"Imoen? Where is little Imoen?" Minsc asked.

He was now decked out in a studded leather jerkin that must have required the sacrifice of an entire cow. At his side was a heavy broadsword that could easily cut one in two.

"I don't know," Finn said grimly. "I thought, maybe, she might have gone to Valesa's house. There was nobody home the last time I was there, but…"

"Then we must find the girl, at once," Dynaheir interrupted.

She held in her hand a strange staff. It was elaborately carved, and the images of a hawk, owl and raven peered out from the wood, taking form like ghosts rising from the wood. On the top were set three feathers fixed with a leather cord. She met Finn's eyes again, then drew a veil over her face, concealing her features from view.

"Yes, no nasty thieves will hurt little Imoen! _Er_ , but who is Valesa? Boo says he does not know this person," Minsc replied.

"Ask Dynaheir. She knows her better than me," Finn shot back. "Are you coming with me, then? You don't have to, you know."

"Bad men on the loose and a young maiden to save? _Ha ha,_ you do not think we would stay at home by the fire, do you, friend?" Minsc bellowed. "See how restless Boo has been, with no great battles to lend him cheer! Glory awaits us this night!"

He drew his sword and held it aloft, hoping for the approval of his rodent friend. Boo though tucked his head securely back into his pouch.

"Minsc speaketh true," Dynaheir said from beneath her veil. "We all are in danger here. Together we stand stronger."

"I'm glad you think so," Finn said. "But if we're all ready then, let's go."

He opened the door cautiously, expecting an arrow or poisoned dart to come flying out of the darkness, but all was quiet outside. The trio headed down the steps and made haste to Ione Valesa's house.

They were all silent as they walked, single file; even Minsc was quiet, and jogged along tirelessly like an old soldier. At last they reached the woman's house.

"Dark," Dynaheir whispered.

"Looks like nobody's in, but that doesn't mean much," he replied. "Come on, let's knock."

"Thou will call at the front door?" Dynaheir said, sounding surprised.

"Why not? She might open it. Come on, and be sharp."

He slammed the brass knocker hard against the door three times. Finn waited as Minsc and Dynaheir watched the darkness behind him. He pounded again for good measure, but he guessed the end result.

"This person is not at home, it seems," Minsc said. "Or your mighty knock has made them hide cowering under their beds!"

"Dammit. Now I guess…home?" Finn growled.

If Ione wasn't there, then Imoen wasn't either. It was a relief in some ways, but he still needed to find her.

"But there was someone here, not long ago," Minsc continued. "See the tracks in the snow! Fresh, they are. They do not stop at the front door, but go around the house."

The big man's wilderness eyes hadn't been dulled by living in the city. There were three sets of tracks, and none of them were left by a girl.

"Come on," Finn said quietly.

...

He drew his blade and Minsc did the same. Dynaheir spoke words under her breath, and a flash of light shimmered around her body then vanished. The tracks went up to the back door. It was open a crack, and moved subtly in the breeze.

Finn didn't say anything; he didn't need to. Silently he stepped inside, with Minsc behind him and Dynaheir in the rear. The inside of the house was even darker than outside, and Finn needed to run his hand along the wall to find his way.

 _"_ _Can_ _'_ _t see,_ _"_ he hissed to himself. But as he spoke a strange glowing orb appeared over their heads, bathing the corridor in a blue glow. He turned to Dynaheir, but she was silent under her veil.

So much for stealth. But she was right; if there was anyone waiting for them, they needed to be able to see them first.

The corridor was empty, but Finn led them into the one room in that house he knew. The parlour was dark as the hall outside, and no fire burned on the hearth. But as they stepped inside the remains of Ione's company were there plain to see.

 _"_ _By the twelve spirits!_ _"_ Minsc cried.

Finn's heart jumped as the ranger's voice penetrated the stillness, but he couldn't blame him for shouting. Three bodies were in that place; at least he thought there were three. The men had been torn, shredded, and there was enough gore scattered around the room to mark a battle of two armies.

"By my mother's heart, I have not seen…" Dynaheir began, then broke off with a choke. The stench of fresh blood was overpowering.

"What manner of beast did this?" Minsc said. "These men were torn from limb to limb…even gnolls, or hobgoblins most foul could not have done such a thing!"

"See any tracks, Minsc?" Finn asked, covering his mouth.

"No. No animals. Only footprints," the ranger replied. "The size of a human. Did these beasts fly in the air?"

"This is…wrong…" Dynaheir said. She had wrapped her veil tighter around her face, and Finn could almost see her fear.

"You're not kidding," he said flatly.

"No, it is…wrong," she replied. "There is some art unnatural in this place… It goes against the very bones of the earth. I can sense it. No mere beasts did this. It was _evil._ _"_

Finn scowled. He didn't doubt she was right, but for once it wasn't his doing.

"We need to search this place," he said, tearing his eyes away from the eviscerated thieves. "Imoen might have come here. And whatever… _thing_ _…_ did this, it might still be here. Let's go!"

There was no one in the dining room. There was a study filled with books and papers, but Finn couldn't spare time to look through them. The kitchen was truly empty; apart from a few bottles of wine, there appeared to be no food at all in the house. Dust covered the kitchen table and the hearth hadn't seen a fire in a long time.

"I don't think this woman actually lives here," Finn said, running a hand over the dusty table. "It must be a squat, or a front. No surprise there, really."

"But if the woman does not own this house, then where are the true owners?" Minsc asked.

"Dead, most likely. Too bad for them. Come on, let's look upstairs," he replied.

"Shall we not search the cellars first?" Dynaheir said.

Finn looked at the cellar door. It was firmly shut. He felt a sudden chill wash over him and shook his head.

"No…upstairs. If we don't find anything there, we'll come back down."

He wouldn't admit that he was afraid to go down there. It was too daft. After all he'd been through, to be afraid to set foot in a dusty cellar? Finn couldn't explain it himself, but he didn't care. There was something…like a sensation tingling at the back of his neck. He didn't want to go down there.

...

They mounted the wide staircase and searched the bedrooms, but the place was entirely empty. Looking around only affirmed Finn's belief that the house was abandoned. Spider webs hung from the posts on the beds like lace, and a thin layer of dust was everywhere. It was obvious no one had been in those rooms in a long time.

But there was still no sign of Imoen or Valesa. No monsters either, thankfully. Finn stepped up to a window, peering through the slats in the shutters at the dark street below, hoping somehow to see Imoen.

A sudden movement at his side made him jump and reach for his weapon. But it was only his reflection in a dirty mirror.

"Thou art tense," Dynaheir said, gliding up to him like a ghost.

"Can you blame me?" Finn asked.

"No. This place fills me with disquiet," she replied.

Finn turned to her. The mage was still hidden under her veil, and he could see nothing of her face.

"Why do you have that on?" he asked.

He would see upper-class women covered in veils to protect their complexions from the winter cold as they rode along in their open sledges, but Dynaheir didn't seem prone to that sort of vanity.

"The Wychlaran are meant to be masked when outside our lands, that we may be unknowable," she said.

"But I've never seen you cover up before," he remarked.

"No… Truthfully, I abandoned the custom not long after we left our home. In Rashemen no one dare question our power, but elsewhere a masked face doth bring only ridicule, or fear. If we did not wish to face a battle at each inn we did visit, there was little other choice."

"Defying your own laws, then? What's the penalty for that?"

He folded his arms and looked at her. Surprisingly Dynaheir raised her veil, throwing it back so her glare of indignation would not go unnoticed.

"And you mock, again. It is in your nature, it seems. And what dost thou hide?"

"What I'm hiding? Dynaheir, _you already know._ _"_

He leaned forward to hiss in her ear. She looked at him in shock, and Finn thought she actually looked frightened for a moment. But they heard the sound of Minsc's boots in the hall and Dynaheir's veil fell over her face again.

 _"_ _Silence,_ _"_ the big man said, not doing a great job of it himself. "Boo says his ears can hear someone downstairs!"

Finn hurried to the door, cursing as a board groaned under his feet. Anyone downstairs would have heard them, no doubt. Dynaheir snuffed out her mage-light, leaving the room in total darkness. Finn left the door open a crack and waited, sword in hand, for whoever might appear.

He could hear someone drawing closer. Quiet steps, soft on the hall carpet outside. Whoever it was had no light. Finn shut his eyes and mentally reached out, trying to discover anything about those steps. But his senses failed him, and all he could hear was the subtle sounds of footsteps coming nearer.

There was a low creak; they were just outside the door. Finn clenched the hilt of his sword.

He could feel the door opening even in the darkness. Suddenly a fizzling array of crackling lights filled the room; Dynaheir cast a spell. Finn took his chance and whirled towards the figure who stopped there, dazzled by the lights. Dazzled or not though the figure was quick as him, and parried his strike with ease. Finn could barely see but there was something familiar in the way he handled a sword. He was left in no doubt though by the shrill voice that called out from behind.

 _"_ _Finn! Put down your weapons!_ _"_

 _"_ _Bloody hells, Jaheira!_ _"_ Finn shouted back, nearly tripping over his own feet in the dark. Dynaheir's mage-light flashed back into existence, leaving Finn face-to-face with a pair of startled Harpers.

"You think it is wise to launch an attack without even knowing who is there?" Jaheira continued, red-faced. "You nearly took Khalid's head off!"

"Sorry, mate," Finn said, in a breathless apology. "Though your sneaking into the room wasn't the best idea, either. We're all just a bit tense here."

"I c-cannot blame you," Khalid replied, sheathing his sword. "We s-saw the b-bodies downstairs. Though I am g-glad my r-reflexes were quick th-this eve."

"Me and all," Finn replied, clapping him on the back. "And I'm glad you're here. We need to find… _Imoen!_ _"_

He broke off from his own thought at the sight of the girl stepping cautiously up the stairs, a lantern illuminating her pale face.

"Finn! You're here, thank the gods," she said, likewise relieved. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"You've been looking for me? Funny that," he replied. "But I think those poor sods downstairs were looking for me, too. The gods know what they found here, but I think it must be gone."

"Then you did not…" Jaheira began.

"You think I killed those men?" Finn exclaimed. "I'm not a werewolf! No. We only came here looking for Imoen, and found a slaughter."

"Then it seems tonight has been one mass game of hide and seek," Jaheira said grimly.

"What do you mean? What's happened?" he asked.

"Some men came to the house," Imoen said. "They said they knew you, but I had a bad feeling… I didn't let them inside. They tried to knock down the door… I had to climb out the window. I ran fast as I could to find Jaheira and Khalid."

"And you think they came here next?"

"I don't know," she said, hesitant. "There were three of them, but…"

"But their own mothers wouldn't recognise those lads downstairs," Finn remarked.

"Do you think Valesa could have done this?" Jaheira asked.

"I don't see how," he replied. "That's just…butchery. But she's not here, either. And I reckon the thieves will be looking for her and all. I can't hope that they've all been done in tonight."

"Indeed. Thieves are like rats, there are always more skulking around," she snarled.

"But what do we do now?"

That thought pushed even the idea of a murderous beast on the loose out of Finn's mind. The Shadow Thieves had marked him, and killing off more of their members wasn't likely to endear them further. Where would be safe?

"W-we need to t-talk to them," Khalid said. "To p-plead your c-case with the Shadowmaster here."

"Talk to thieves? Surely you jest, my friend?" Minsc exclaimed.

"Khalid is right," Jaheira said. "Finn is only involved in this by happenstance. Whatever her reasons, Ione Valesa is the one who targeted their interests. With luck, and perhaps a bit of _persuasion,_ we may be able to convince them of this fact."

"I can't believe you'd say that, of all people," Finn remarked.

"Do you think I relish speaking to such criminals?" she shot back. "No. But these thieves will not rest until you are punished for your crimes. Their blades come swiftly out of the dark, and it will not be long until they find you. It is your only chance."

Finn didn't reply. She had a point, but somehow he didn't rate their chances much either way.

"How do we find the Shadowmaster, though?" Imoen asked. "They can't be easy to find, being all _shadowy_ and everything."

"There are those in our organisation who know how to contact such people," the druid told her. "In the meantime, we will take you and Finn to a safe house. You can hardly return home, and it will give Khalid and I a chance to…monitor the situation."

"Make sure we don't get into any more trouble, you mean," Finn said.

"It would take a dozen of us to keep to that task, Finnigan! We have all but worn out any goodwill we have left in this city. But let us see what can be done. We must leave this place, the quicker the better."

Finn grimaced, but he could hardly say anything to Jaheira's curt reply. The Harpers were sticking their necks out for them, yet again, never waiting to be asked, and never asking for ought in return. There were parents who had less fealty to their offspring than Khalid and Jaheira had to those two orphan whelps. But there was still a matter of contention.

"One thing," Finn began. "The thieves have got in in their heads I'm part of some group. They know I stopped by Dynaheir's shop. I'm worried that…"

"We have no cause to fear thieves, my friend," Minsc interrupted. "Let a hundred of them come! They will all fall to our mightiness!"

"Be that as it may… We could house the pair of you, if necessary. _If_ you can keep a low profile?" Jaheira said.

She looked at Minsc and seemed dubious. Dynaheir raised a hand, stifling a reply on the ranger's lips.

"I think, perhaps for now… Thou art most kind. We would accept thy offer."

"If that is what Dynaheir wishes," the man replied, sounding glum. "And Boo says we should help to protect our friends, in case the bad thieves come calling."

"But what about Ione?" Imoen piped up.

"Who cares? She's the reason we're in this mess to start with," Finn reminded her. "Let her deal with it. Let's get out of this place before the Flaming Fist show up, if we're lucky."

Imoen looked like she was going to say something else, but whatever it was she kept it to herself. They moved quickly out of the house, past the slaughter in the parlour, and out into the streets once more.

...

Finn didn't pay much attention to where the Harpers led, keeping his eyes open for any attacks from the shadows. But at last they reached the safe house. It was a modest residence, unremarkable, as they usually were. Khalid led them into the back garden and unlocked the door with the Harper pin he wore on his breast. They hurriedly filed into the kitchen and Jaheira shut the door behind them.

"So how many safe houses do you have in this city?" Finn asked, waiting for Khalid to strike a light.

"Fewer than we used to," Jaheira replied. "This one is quite new. Hopefully the kitchen will be stocked."

A light flashed out of the darkness and the kitchen burst into view. The place was small and rather plain, but judging from the bottles set out on the table Jaheira didn't have much to worry about. The Harpers were good hosts, if nothing else.

"How long must we stay here?" Dynaheir asked. She still wore her veil, and stood back near the door.

"However long you wish. You are not our prisoners. You may leave whenever you choose," Jaheira replied sharply.

"Forgive me, I did not wish to sound ungrateful," the mage said. "But I have just now realised…"

"It's no fun hanging around a safe house," Finn told her. "But it usually means your better off here than anywhere else, unfortunately."

 _"_ _Hm!_ I still say we should be out hunting these thieves. Give us a chance, and their foul den would be clear by morning!" Minsc said.

"If only that were true," Jaheira replied. "For tonight though, let us rest. There should be ample rooms up the stairs. What is there to eat, my husband? Silvanus, I have a strange appetite tonight."

The druid slouched down onto one of the kitchen chairs and let out a long groan. Finn wouldn't have minded cracking open one of those bottles, but he thought the better of it. He took a candle and made his way up the stairs, hoping to have a bit of peace and quiet.

...

They were odd, those Harper safe houses. They were set up like a boarding house run by some prim old woman. Everything was comfortable, but only just so. The cushions were a bit stiff, the beds just a bit hard, but everything was neat as could be.

Finn had spent the last couple hours staring at the random assortment of books that were stacked next to his narrow bed. A couple of volumes on the history of Tethyr and some story of a sunken bell in a lake. He didn't read them, just looked at them. He lacked the energy for reading, assuming he had any interest in them in the first place. He wondered who had set them there, and who had read them, while they were hiding from whatever hunted them.

He remembered the last time they were all holed up in a Harper safe house. They were hiding from the Flaming Fist, or was it Sarevok? It wasn't too clear anymore. Mostly Finn just remembered Anna. They slept together for the first time in that house. He shut his eyes and remembered golden braids draped over white skin. He remembered the trembling moment his hands first touched her warmth. Finn took a breath and forced open his eyes, before his memory went too deep.

It all had seemed so helpless, hoping in those days that she loved him. He couldn't remember when he first realised he loved her. Maybe he always had. He knew it from the moment she first looked at him. Not love at first sight, exactly, just _knowing._ Knowing they had a destiny.

Some destiny in turned out to be. Finn sighed and slapped the bell book back on the table. If he had known… This wasn't some stupid ballad after all, some story of dizzy lads and lasses chasing each other this way and that way. This was life, hard and cold, and he'd fallen flat on his face.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He called out, and wasn't too surprised to see Imoen there.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"I just said come in," Finn groaned in reply, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't be a grouch," Imoen replied. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. Dynaheir said you were hurt."

"I was hurt. I'm fine now," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"So, do you think we'll really meet this Shadowmaster?" she replied, ignoring his brusqueness and coming to sit in the chair next to his bed.

"Is there a good way to answer that? If Jaheira says so, then we probably will. Maybe we'll get lucky and the Harpers will sweep the whole thing into the dustbin for us."

"You believe that?" she asked.

"No," he replied.

Imoen sighed and they were both silent for a moment.

"Listen," she finally said. "I am sorry I took those jewels. I mean, if I really knew what trouble…"

"Forget about it," he interrupted. "What's done is done. I can understand why you were desperate for some gold. Hardly seems to matter now, anyway."

"I guess it's kind of silly, but… I didn't really do it for the coin. Not really. I just kept thinking about our adventures, you know? I mean, before everything got…horrible. Back in the beginning, when…"

"Got horrible?" Finn interrupted again. "It got horrible the moment Gorion was killed! We never had any adventures before that."

"I know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I guess I don't say what I mean very well," Imoen tried to apologise. "You're right, it's always been awful. But didn't you ever think, just for a minute, _hey, I_ _'_ _m free now?_ We were explorers, we were adventurers. The whole world was open to us. Just for a little while…it was good."

She sighed wistfully and Finn looked at her.

"Honestly, no. I was mainly thinking about when the next hunter was going to turn up."

The girl looked up at him, her cheeks turning the shade of her hair.

"You're right. It's stupid, I know. We were always fighting for our lives. But I… I never had anything to look forward to, before that. I was just going to tend the inn forever. And innkeepers don't often get recorded by history. But all of a sudden I felt like I could actually _be._ Somebody. And it was a good feeling."

"You don't think you're somebody?" Finn asked.

"I don't know. Not like you, I guess."

"And what's that mean?"

"Well, you're… A _Child._ You've got _powers._ Whatever you do, you aren't ordinary."

Finn stared at her. If that was meant to be a compliment, he wasn't sure how to take it.

"Imoen, believe me…I'd give any gold in the world to just go back to Candlekeep and spend one day being ordinary. This is not something that anyone would want!"

"Maybe not _that,_ but you always used to talk. You would talk about going out into the world and being a mercenary, or a soldier, or… Didn't you once tell me you were going to walk from Neverwinter to Calimport, just to see what was there? I told you you'd need a few spare pairs of boots in your pack, remember?"

"Aye," Finn said, sitting up. "And I also remember how cross you'd get every time I forgot to wipe my boots before I went tramping round your precious carpets. You'd give me a telling off worse than Winthrop! You treated that inn like it was your baby. You never acted like you were desperate for _adventures._ _"_

"That's because I never thought I could have any! But I dreamed, the same as you. And if you ever had to scrub muddy footprints out of a fine Calim rug, you'd know why I got so cross."

She looked at him and Finn had to laugh. How ridiculous their old lives seemed now.

"But getting back to the jewels… There was one reason why I wanted coin," Imoen said.

"What's that?"

"Because I… When spring came, I was going to take passage on a ship."

"You were? Where to?" Finn asked.

He was genuinely surprised, and even a little alarmed. Imoen had never mentioned leaving before.

"I'm not sure. Maybe north, or south. Maybe even west, to the islands. But I was going."

"But why?" he asked again.

"Oh, Finn… Are you surprised?" Imoen exclaimed. "You don't need me. You're married now, you've got your own life. I can't just keep hanging about while you do…whatever. I want to travel, I want to find my life. I want to see what's waiting for me. Don't worry, I'd write every day."

She let out a giggle, possibly surprised at the look of concern on her brother's face.

"Well, I guess if that's what you want to do, I wouldn't stop you," he said.

"You _couldn_ _'_ _t_ stop me. I'll be eighteen by then, free by the right of the law!" she laughed.

"You going to stay free of the law?" Finn joked in return. "Fine chance of that happening!"

He laughed as well, but his throat choked a little. As much as she'd been a pain in his side, he could never imagine Imoen leaving. She had always been there.

"Well, don't get teary-eyed just yet. I'm not going anywhere soon," she sighed, and her mood become more sombre.

"Well. We'll fix it, somehow. We've gotten through everything else," Finn said. "Although if we're being serious, I've got a question as well."

"What is it?" Imoen asked.

"When are you going to do something about your _hair?_ _"_

 _"_ _What?_ Oh, Finn!" she cried, her hands drifting to her short pink locks.

"Sorry, Im…but it's pink as a petunia!"

Finn laughed, trying to hide the fact that his comment was serious. But Imoen just tossed her head and glared at him.

"Well, I happen to like it. It's different, you know? And I like not having to spend an hour each day brushing and braiding my hair!"

"So you're just being lazy, then," he remarked.

"Lazy, me? So says the man who can't change his socks but once a tenday!"

"Hey, you know I've got a three-day sock rule…"

He was interrupted though as Imoen blew a loud raspberry and held on to her nose. Finn grabbed the cushion off his bed and sent it flying in her direction, but Imoen snatched it and sent the missile back with equal force. She shrieked with laughter and tried to dodge as Finn sent it back again, but they both fell quiet at the sound of a loud knock on the door.

...

 _"_ _Children, if you please!_ _"_ Jaheira's voice came through the frame. _"_ _You are needed downstairs._ _"_

"All right… _ow! No fair!_ _"_ Finn howled as Imoen took advantage of his distraction to batter him over the head with his own cushion. Finn ruffled Imoen's pink locks and hurried out the door before she could do more than squeal in indignation.

They both scrambled down the stairs, but paused at the rather sober looking group that was assembled in the sitting room.

"What's up?" Finn asked.

"I am afraid we will not likely be meeting with the Shadowmaster anytime soon," Jaheira told him.

"Why?" Imoen said.

"I w-went to s-speak with our c-contact while you w-were resting," Khalid began. "The Shadow Thieves in the c-city are riled as a h-hornet's nest, and w-will not speak t-to anyone."

"Over the death of one arms dealer?" Finn remarked. "He must have really been important."

"N-not only that," Khalid said. "It s-seems the Shadowmaster of B-Baldur's Gate died wh-while at a festhall this very day."

"Keeled over at the gaming tables," Jaheira joined in. "Poisoned."

There was silence in the room. Finn's mouth opened but nothing came out.

"At least they do not have you to blame this time," Jaheira continued, looking at him. "Not surprisingly the Shadowmaster took great pains to avoid this sort of unfortunate incident, but _someone_ managed to take him out, and in full public view. Add to that the death of Trevalan and the thieves in this city are understandably on edge."

"You think Ione Valesa was involved?" Finn managed to say.

"It is possible," Jaheira sighed. "Or it may be nothing more than a coincidence both men met their deaths within a day of each other. The Shadowmaster doubtless had enemies. But all the same…"

"It stinks. I know," he replied.

"But what do we do now?" Imoen asked.

"Trying to engage the thieves in conversation at this time would be a fool's errand," Jaheira said. "Even moreso than before. I doubt they would listen to anything we had to say. We may simply have to wait. Wait and see if any other suspects present themselves."

"Or we could go looking for Valesa," Finn said. "If she is involved…"

"Look, yes! Boo says anything is better than waiting," Minsc remarked.

"Perhaps… Perhaps Jaheira doth speak the wisest," Dynaheir said slowly. She had removed her veil at last, but stood off in the shadows of the room. "Seeing the state of her home, it seems most unlikely Valesa would return there, and we know not where else in the city she may'st hide. If the thieves dost look for Finn…hunting would be most dangerous."

"But what about you?" Finn said, turning to her. "I gather you know something about her. Where she might be found, and all. You certainly would have a better idea than the rest of us."

"Is this true, Dynaheir?" Jaheira asked. "You know this woman?"

"I do not," the mage replied, sounding defensive. "I have never seen her face. And I know not where she might be found. On my mother's heart, I do swear that to thee. I know only of her interest in certain tomes of knowledge."

"It is somewhere to begin, at least. She might be traced through a contact," Jaheira mused.

"But she is dangerous…" Dynaheir began.

"And how do you know that?" Finn said, stepping forward. "People who sit around reading books all day aren't usually the dangerous type, in my experience. If you know something, _say it._ _"_

"I know nothing," Dynaheir said. "And your constant hinting that I telleth a lie grows most tiresome. I will not tolerate blows against my honour!"

"Nor will I," Minsc rejoined. "Dynaheir never tells a lie! She is an honourable witch! No one can question her!"

The grumbling mountain of a ranger stepped towards Finn, but Jaheira held up her hands.

"Enough! We will have no duels here. If Dynaheir says she does not know where Valesa can be found, then we have little choice but to take her word. But tomorrow we will begin to canvas the booksellers in this city. One may well know where to find her. It is the most we can do now."

"Or, maybe… Dynaheir could still help us out."

Imoen spoke rather strangely, and all eyes turned to her.

"What dost thou intend, child?" Dynaheir snapped. "As I have said, I know not where the woman is."

"Maybe not, but you managed to track me pretty neatly with that spell of yours. Is there any reason it wouldn't work on Valesa?"

Dynaheir looked startled, but she shook her head.

"No. That was different. Something of mine was stolen, and my spell did seeketh the thief."

"But I've studied magic. I know how those spells work," Imoen continued. "You can track a thief, by binding an object to its owner. You could do it with Valesa, too!"

"But I have nothing of hers, child. And I will not set foot in that cursed house again…"

"You don't have to, though," Imoen said. "Here."

She reached into her pouch, and drew out a lady's hair comb. It was of creamy white ivory, carved with intricate designs that reflected in the firelight.

"I…found this on a dressing table in her house. You could use it to cast the spell."

"Do you pick up everything shiny, Imoen?" Finn remarked. "I'm going to have to start calling you Magpie."

"But, that may not even be hers," Dynaheir protested. "Finn did say that house was not truly her own…"

"It is, though. I'm sure I've seen her wearing that," he said.

"He's right," Imoen replied. "I thought it looked so pretty. And I reckoned she owed me one for…everything."

"We will have a word about your light fingers another time," Jaheira spoke. "But for tonight, at least, you have done us a favour. Can you use this to cast the spell, Dynaheir?"

The mage was on the spot. She opened her mouth as if to argue further, but there was no objection she could raise. Slowly she nodded her head.

"I can. But I must prepare…I must retreat and meditate."

"Very well," Jaheira sighed. "I suppose we could all use some rest. We will seek Valesa tomorrow."

Imoen gave Dynaheir the comb. She took it not in her hands, but wrapped the object in a kerchief instead. Dynaheir lifted up her long mage robe and went back up the stairs without a word to anyone.

...

By then it was late. Imoen said goodnight, and Khalid and Jaheira retreated to their own little chamber. Minsc for his part insisted on keeping watch downstairs, in case any thieves might try to come down the chimney. Finn tried telling him the Harper house would be warded up to the nines, but it was little use. He left the big man to his guard and went upstairs himself.

But Finn wasn't going to bed, not yet anyway. He knocked quietly on a door at the end of the hall, waiting for Dynaheir to respond.

"Who knocks?" she asked from inside.

"It's me. I want a word."

"Finn…must you keep hounding me? I must memorise this spell!" she declared.

"You'd have a job of it without your spell book," he said quietly. "I know you haven't got it with you. Now let me in."

He knew he was prodding the Wychlaran a little hard, but he figured her honour wouldn't stand being caught out in a fib. The door opened, and Dynaheir glared out at him.

"I have nothing more to say to you tonight. Leave me be," she commanded.

 _"_ _The Mists of Mir._ Interesting book, that," he said, languidly. "Did you get to the part about the Temple of Bhaal hidden in a swamp? Sacrifices, and all that. Pretty gruesome reading."

Dynaheir almost looked turned to stone for a moment, but she quickly recovered.

"I did not read that far," she said, looking down.

"No? Well, in case you get another chance… Don't worry. Those two kids made it out alive."

"But they were…" she began, then stopped quickly, realising she'd been caught out.

"I thought the Wychlaran weren't supposed to tell lies," Finn remarked.

She looked at him, and Finn thought for certain he was about to be turned into dust. But Dynaheir mustered every last ounce of dignity she had, and spoke through clenched teeth.

"What do thy desire?" she asked.

"Just the truth," he replied. "Why are you hiding up here? You aren't memorising spells. Can you cast this thing or not?"

"I said I could, and I shall," Dynaheir said. "But I just needed to…think."

"About what?"

"Dost thou now demand to know my private thoughts?" she cried. "Leave me, or I shall summon Minsc."

"Really?" Finn said. "I'm hardly trying to force my way into your bed. But you know more than you're telling, and that's obvious. I've got a…vested interest here. Now tell me."

"Very well, if nothing else will satisfy you," she said. "Come in to my chamber, that we might not disturb the others. But leave the door open."

Finn did as bidden. He came inside, staying well to the corner as he nearly tripped over a circle of small stones that were laid out on the floor in the narrow room. Dynaheir apologised.

"Stones from my homeland," she said. "Taken from the shores of the sacred lakes, Ashane and Mulsantir. From the crest of the Sunrise Mountains and the endless plains of the north. From the borders of Rashemen I gathered them, so that I may always be bound within the motherland."

"That's nice," Finn said. "But I really want to know about Valesa. Tell me what you know of her."

"You are obsessed with this elf-woman," Dynaheir sighed, hastily placing the stones into a leather bag. "But there is little I have not shared. I know little of her. Only what I have heard."

"And what have you heard?"

"She appeared in this city not more than two months ago," Dynaheir began. "After the great shaking of the earth. None knows from whence she came. She was secretive, preferring to write letters rather than visit the shops. But she sought out books like a she-wolf seeking her prey. She would pay outrageous amounts of coin for volumes she desired. And some say… There was a private collector, a man with a remarkable library. He refused Valesa's offers of coin, no matter how high her price. And he died. Somehow he took too much of the _digitalis_ he did take for his heart. Within three days his widow sold Valesa the books she so coveted."

"You think Valesa had him killed?"

"Nought could be proven against her. The Flaming Fist visited her home…but they returned in fear. Fear of what, they could not say. She wears the mantle of a charming woman, but there is a demon in her heart. None dare to refuse her."

"And what sort of books did she collect, exactly?"

Dynaheir hesitated again. "She…had an interest in topics most various."

"Such as…?" Finn said, impatient.

"She had a remarkable interest in the matters of the gods," she replied.

"Religious, is she?"

"I cannot say. But for now, I wish to retire to bed. This has been a long day for us all, and I cannot think but tomorrow will be longer still. Good night, Finn."

Her dismissal was plain. Finn groaned; there was still much she hadn't said. Like why she and Valesa had common interests in the first place. But he was tired too, and didn't see the point of dragging it out that night. He turned and went to his room, without another word to Dynaheir.


	6. The Collector

Finn was not destined for sleep that night. He rolled into bed and collapsed quickly from exhaustion, but strange dreams kept him from resting too deeply. First he was here, and then there, having conversations with people he could not see. A discussion, something… Someone was talking about him. He could not hear the words, but the intent behind them filled him with dread.

His eyes opened. The room was totally dark, and he had no idea of the time. He listened. Except for a rumbling sound that he took as Minsc snoring downstairs, the Harper house was silent as a tomb.

But Finn couldn't rest again. Something, there was something… Quietly he rose from bed and slipped into his trousers, then grasped Sarevok's blade in his hand. He slid out the chamber door and padded softly as he could downstairs.

The sitting room was dark, but a little light from the embers in the fireplace helped him to see. Minsc was wrapped in a blanket on the floor and snoring hard. So much for the watchman. A scurrying made Finn jump, but he quickly realised it was only Boo. The furry beast climbed up on Minsc's shoulder and rose up on his hind paws, his little nose sniffing the air. His glittery black eyes turned from Finn and stared off into the kitchen.

Finn grasped the hilt of his blade harder. Slowly he stepped towards the kitchen, silent in his bare feet. His eyes saw only shadows, but he knew someone was there. He could feel the heat of blood. Perhaps they hadn't seen him yet. But he wasn't going to give them a chance.

He dove into the room, throwing himself to where his senses told him the intruder was. His hands grasped leather and he threw the surprised person to the floor with all the strength he possessed. Finn heard a cry; it was a woman, but no woman from that house. He struck hard again, battering her across the head with the hilt of his blade. He felt the heat of blood on his hands, and the woman was still.

 _"_ _A battle! We are awake, Boo!_ _"_ came Minsc's confused cry. The man stumbled into the kitchen, waving his sword around in an alarming way.

"Minsc! Get a light," Finn told him, gasping for breath.

"Finn! Yes, light…candles, Boo! We cannot fight in the dark!"

But there was no more fighting to be done. When Minsc returned with a light they could both see the thief-woman lying bloodied on the floor.

"She's alive, yet," Finn said hoarsely. "How did she get in? Never mind. Call Jaheira, get some rope!"

"Yes, we will!" Minsc bellowed in return. _"_ _Awaken, everyone! We are under attack!_ _"_

If Finn didn't know better, he'd almost say the big man was pleased. He quickly searched the woman for weapons, then laid his hands on her head. Blood was flowing from her brown hair, but he focused and willed it to stop. He could feel heat flowing out of his hands, and the woman let out a moan.

 _"_ _By Mask_ _…_ _what_ _…"_ she muttered.

"Better thank Tymora," Finn told her. "You're lucky I didn't take your head clean off. Now sit back against the wall there, and don't move."

The woman stared up at him, wiping the sticky blood off her face with her hand. She tried to sit up, but she struggled to rise. Finn grabbed her roughly and pushed her up against the wall.

 _"_ _You won_ _'_ _t_ _…_ _get anything from me,_ _"_ she rasped, giving him an evil look.

"Fine then. I'll just kill you now," he replied, and the woman started. "Where are the others?"

 _"_ _No others. I_ _'_ _m alone,_ _"_ she said.

"Don't lie, bitch, it won't help you none," Finn said. "You came here to kill us, and I don't have any qualms about returning the favour. Remember that."

The woman glared at him again, but she seemed too dazed for a reply. There was a pounding of footsteps on the stairs and the little kitchen suddenly became very crowded.

"Silvanus! Who is this?" A sleepy-looking Jaheira demanded.

"Who do you think? A thief, an assassin," Finn said.

"My husband, check the doors and windows!" she said quickly. "Minsc, you go with him. How did she get in?"

"Through the back window, by the looks of it," Finn said.

"Then she managed to disarm our wards?" Jaheira exclaimed, staring at the half-open shutter.

"Your wards were not as strong as they might be. But no one else shall enter this way," Dynaheir said.

She hurried to the shutter and secured it again. From a pouch on her belt she took some silvery powder, and began chanting words as she traced arcane symbols over the frame.

The thief groaned again, resting her head onto her knees. Jaheira went to her and applied her own healing.

"You have been spared, for now," she said harshly. "And now you will speak. Who has sent you to this place? And how many of your number are lurking outside?"

But the woman just spat at her for her trouble. Finn wasn't feeling at all gentle. He kicked the woman hard in the ribs, and she collapsed again in pain.

"Enough!" Jaheira said. "But that is not the worst you will endure, if you do not find a proper answer to my questions. Speak, now."

"I don't have to tell you anything," she said, still defiant. "You're dead. That's all you need to know."

"And why should the Shadow Thieves wish us dead?" Jaheira continued.

"Like you don't know? Because you're killing us!" the woman cried. "Folks are going out on jobs and never coming back. Some have been turned up in the sewers, torn to bits like they've been eaten by wild animals. And now Warrich, the Shadowmaster… But we've got a name now. We've finally sussed you out, and you're going to _pay._ _"_

"And what name is that, exactly?" Finn asked, resisting the urge to punch the woman in the face.

"Ione Valesa. The mistress of your guild," she declared. "Or have you forgotten?"

"You're wrong, love," Finn snarled. "We're not part of any _guild_ Valesa has. I only just met the woman not three days past. She asked me to find some trinket she said was stolen from her, by a man called Trevalan. Things got a bit ugly there, and now thieves are hunting me everywhere I go, saying I'm part of some mythical guild! I don't know one damn thing about it!"

"You're lying," the woman said.

"What reason would we have to lie?" Jaheira demanded. "You are our prisoner, and we have no reason to keep you alive and listen to our stories. We could kill you with ease. We have our own grievances with Valesa, and are hunting her the same as you. But we have nothing more to say. Leave this place now, and call off your comrades who are no doubt skulking outside."

"You're letting her go?" Finn said.

"She can carry the message," Jaheira replied. "Tell your superiors we have no quarrel with your guild, but if we are attacked again, we will defend ourselves. Now be gone from this place, before my temper gets the better of me!"

She dragged the woman up by her ear and threw her out the door like an irate housewife putting out the cat. Jaheira slammed the door hard, leaving the thief staring up blankly from the snowy back garden.

...

"You think…you think they'll really go away?" Imoen asked, wide eyed and breathless.

"For tonight, at least," Jaheira growled. "I do not think they will launch another assault now. But whether they believe our story is another thing entirely. That woman's words were most disturbing."

"She said something about another guild. Valesa's guild," Finn said.

"I know nothing of this," Jaheira admitted. "I have heard nothing about thieves being targeted from our contacts here. Whatever has happened, they must be keeping it well to themselves."

"It's a bit of a leap from homebody book collector to mistress of the local thieves' guild, don't you think?" Finn said. "What the hells is this woman up to?"

"Her motivations are certainly obscure," she replied. "But I think it is high time we asked the woman herself. Dynaheir, are you capable of casting your spell now?"

"If thy wish," the mage answered.

"Then do so. The sooner we can find her, the sooner we may have answers."

"And if nothing else, we can send the thieves her head in a sack," Finn spat. "Maybe that would get them off our backs."

"We shall hear what she has to say first," Jaheira said, cautiously. "But for now, let us ready ourselves."

It was an early start, then. There was a scrambling as the occupants of the house set about gathering their gear, while Imoen did what she did best and stoked up the fire for breakfast. Finn doubted that anyone, her included, was really hungry, but busy hands helped steady the nerves.

At last they were ready. Jaheira turned to Dynaheir expectantly.

"Do you need privacy for this?" she asked.

"No… Just silence, if thy please."

Dynaheir sat at the table, and slowly began to unwrap Valesa's comb. The pale white of the ivory made it look almost luminous against the black cloth. Dynaheir stared at it for a moment, her brow furrowed, as if not sure what to do. But she raised her hands over the comb and began chanting in a strange language. The comb began to glow then, bright at first, but then the glow faded. Dynaheir seemed surprised and chanted more firmly.

The strange back-and-forth continued for a few minutes, to the point Finn wondered if something was wrong. But the comb suddenly burst into light and the reflection caught in Dynaheir's eyes. She stared out into the ether, her eyes white with remarkable light. Then the glow faded, and Dynaheir almost seemed to melt in exhaustion.

"Has it worked? Are you well?" Jaheira asked quickly.

Dynaheir didn't respond for a moment, breathing in silence.

"I am… The spell has taken hold. It was…difficult."

"Why was it hard?" Imoen asked. "That's a basic sort of cantrip, isn't it?"

"It should be," she replied, still breathing heavily. "But something…some _will_ did fight my own. I have never experienced such a thing."

"What could cause that?" Finn said.

"It must be that Valesa has protected herself. That woman has strength…but I did find her at last. I know where she may be found. Here, in the city. But…"

"What is it?" Jaheira asked.

"She is…not on the surface. I sense she is underground…she does not walk on the earth."

She looked up at Jaheira, a worried glance. The druid closed her mouth and her eyes narrowed.

"We shall find her wherever she hides. But let us be on our guard…this woman appears to be far more dangerous than any of us first suspected. And based on what that thief said to us, she may not be alone. Let us not forget those thieves who were torn to bits. We should be prepared for anything."

"Right then. Let's go," Finn said.

"Wait…there's just one thing," Imoen said suddenly.

"What?" he replied.

"I'll just…give me just a minute!" she said, and dashed away upstairs.

"One last trip to the chamber pot?" Finn muttered, but he didn't have much choice but to wait with the rest of the anxious crew. Imoen was gone long enough that he considered hollering up the stairs, but at last she reappeared.

"What in all the hells are you wearing?" Finn exclaimed when he saw her.

Imoen had traded her rough woollen frock for a pair of leather trousers and a jerkin. They both were rather too large for her and she tugged at them self-consciously.

"You can't expect me to go wandering around in the sewers or whatever in a dress, can you? I found these in the wardrobe in my room. I didn't think anyone would mind if I took them."

"You look like some tavern mercenary that's shrunk in the wash," Finn remarked.

"Good!" she replied defiantly. "I'll still look a lot more intimidating than I would in my housemaid's cap!"

"No one's going to think you're intimidating, anyway. Don't even think of getting into a fight! If there's trouble, back off."

His face had turned red, and he wondered for a moment if there was any way of leaving Imoen at the safe house. But he should have known the answer to that question.

"I think Imoen's attire is the least of our concerns at the moment," Jaheira remarked. "We have no more time to waste. It is well past the middle of the night, and we should act while we still have the element of surprise. Now if there are no more distractions?"

Khalid opened the kitchen door carefully to see if anyone was waiting outside. He gave the all-clear though, and they hurried out into the night.

...

The cold took Finn's breath away. Up above them the sky was scattered with thousands of bright stars, burning silently in the frosty night. But there was no moon, and it was dark. Street lamps were few and far between in that neighbourhood and Finn had to trust the half-elves knew where they were going. With Dynaheir's direction they followed through numerous twists and turns as they made their way through the city.

"Are we running a maze here?" Finn asked as they paused for breath.

"Apologies. My magic taketh little regard for city streets," the mage said. "We must not be far now."

They crossed over a bridge which spanned a narrow canal. Dynaheir leaned over the wall and pointed below them.

"There. That grate will take us where we need to go."

"Fantastic," Finn sighed. "Looks like there's a ladder to the water level over there. Come on."

The canal was frozen over, but Finn didn't trust the ice enough to set foot on it. Carefully they walked along the icy, narrow brick path up to the grate. Finn expected it to be frozen solid, but surprisingly it opened with little effort.

"Someone has been using this recently," Jaheira said low. "Be sharp."

Together with Finn she took the lead, followed by Imoen and Dynaheir, with Minsc and Khalid bringing up the rear. Dynaheir sent another of her blue mage-lights floating up above their heads, and it set the sewer alight with an unearthly glow.

"Which way?" Finn asked as they came to a cross path.

"To the right," Dynaheir replied.

They carried on, stepping carefully as they walked. Dynaheir directed them left at another passage, then paused before a dank pipe that led downward.

"Here," she said.

A finger emerged from her long veil and she pointed like a lost spirit towards a grave. Finn peered down the hole, leaning out as far as he dared. Iron rungs were set into the brickwork and they disappeared into darkness.

"Why…why would she be down _there?_ _"_ Imoen asked.

"Do not be afraid, little Imoen!" Minsc tried to reassure her. "See, Boo fears not the darkness or smelly holes in the ground! The iron looks sound, and will bear even Minsc's weight."

The hamster peered out of his master's pouch and gazed down at the hole. He let out a squeak and hid himself again.

"I…don't know," Finn said. "Imoen's right. I don't like this."

"My path is true," Dynaheir said. "Valesa is this way."

"I'm not questioning your magic," Finn said, though a part of him was. "But we keep going down there, the gods only know what we'll find. Maybe try another day."

"I do not blame you for being fearful," Jaheira remarked. "But this may be our only chance to find this woman. What safety will there be on the surface with the Shadow Thieves hunting you? We have little choice in the matter."

Finn clenched his teeth. Jaheira didn't exactly call him a coward, but he could feel a sting in her words just the same. But there was something about that hole he didn't like, something more than the obvious. Like the cellar in Valesa's house. Some instinct told him not to go down there, and he was learning to trust his instincts. But Jaheira was right at least; he was damned on the surface, and he might as well be damned down here, too.

"All right, then. Let's go."

One by one they descended into the pipe. They emerged into a tunnel not so different from the one above, but this one was lower to the point that Finn and Minsc had to walked stooped over. It made Finn feel hot and cramped, and didn't improve his mood at all.

"T-tight down here. N-not much r-room for fighting," Khalid remarked, echoing Finn's thoughts.

"Let us hope it does not come to that, my husband," Jaheira sighed. "Which way now, Dynaheir?"

But the mage suddenly seemed unsure. She looked both ways in the tunnel, even raising her veil that she could get a better look. Her mouth opened and she shook her head.

"I… I do not know. May the mothers preserve me, I do not know! My magic has failed. The spell is gone!"

Her usual aloofness was broken by an obvious desperation. The others looked at each other, not sure what to think.

"Dynaheir," Jaheira said firmly. "Answer me this; did your spell _fail_ , or was it broken?"

"It did not fail. It was taken from me," she said, gasping.

"That's enough, then," Finn said quickly. "We're getting out of here. We can face the Shadow Thieves another time, but this smells rotten!"

"No, wait…wait. I…" Dynaheir stammered. "The bones. I will consult the bones."

She took from her belt another bag and held it in her hands, speaking words in the language of Rashemen. She then shook the bag and opened it, letting a number of pale, carved staves fall to the bricks below. Dynaheir bent down over them, her long locks nearly touching the floor as she leaned forward. She seemed almost paralysed as she stared at them, transfixed.

"This…cannot be," she breathed.

"What is it, Dynaheir?" Minsc asked. "What do the bones of the mothers tell you?"

"Mother's bones?" Imoen exclaimed. "You don't mean those are _actually_ human, do you?"

"This is no gross necromancy, child!" Dynaheir replied. "The clan mothers have volunteered their flesh, that their wisdom may live on after death. It is sacred, and I do not consult the mothers without great need. But they say to me…we must go."

"Back up to the surface? Smart bones," Finn said.

"No…to follow the trail. This way."

She gathered up the bones delicately, picking them one by one as a child might do with daisies. Respect or not, Finn thought she was deliberately hesitating.

"If you are certain then, Dynaheir?" Jaheira asked, herself sounding dubious.

"Yes…come."

She took up the trail, looking even more ghostly as she drifted along in her veil. Finn scowled; something wasn't right. He'd been angry at the thought that Dynaheir was lying to him, but he'd never thought for a moment she might be working against them. He never had cause to think she was anything but decent. But something was wrong, and he was sure even Dynaheir herself knew it. What did those bones whisper to her? He didn't like it one bit.

"Jaheira, I don't…something's wrong," he spoke quietly as they walked along behind the mage.

"What do you mean?" she hissed in return.

"I don't know. Can't you feel it? Something's up with Dynaheir."

"She does seem greatly distracted. Her focus was keen before," Jaheira said. "But have you reason to doubt her?"

"No," Finn sighed. "No real reason. But I'm not happy about this."

"We are in a sewer. I would be surprised if you were pleased with the situation," she remarked. "But we will follow…for now."

Her hand drifted to her mace, giving the impression she was ready for betrayal. Finn wished with all his might that Anna was there, or even Xan. If the mage did turn on them they wouldn't have a counter-spell. But they'd come that far, and if they weren't going to turn around and run back, then they had to keep going. Maybe this place was just getting to Dynaheir, too.

...

But as they turned another corner the mage was driven out of Finn's thoughts. A horrific scream filled the tunnel ahead. They all drew their weapons and went cautiously towards the noise.

"What was that?" Minsc cried. "See Boo's hair standing on end! And Minsc's, if he had hair on his head."

"A woman, it sounded like a woman," Finn said.

 _Was_ a woman. By the time they reached the source of the scream, there was nothing left.

 _"_ _Gods,_ _"_ he choked. "She was a thief, judging by those scraps of leather. They like the leather armour. Torn to bits, just like those men in Valesa's house. What in all the hells did this to her?"

"This woman has hell-hounds in her service, she must!" Minsc said.

"But any beast would surely have followed our scent, as well," Jaheira said, tearing her eyes away from the slaughter. "And if it was here, where did it go? I see no trace of a beast in the tunnel ahead. It could not have escaped so quickly!"

"This is magic most foul," Dynaheir spoke.

She shook her head and clutched her veil to her face as before. Finn turned to her.

"Then I think your mothers must be having an off day, sending us into its path!"

"Do not question the wisdom of the sacred mothers!" she cried. "They knoweth more than thy ever could. They would not send us on the wrong path. We must trust them."

"The right path is not necessarily free from danger," Jaheira said. "But I am beginning to agree with Finn. Can you say how near Valesa is?"

"No. The bones do not speak in such a way. They only tell me to follow the path," Dynaheir said. "We will find Valesa. I am…certain."

Her voice fell on the last. They left the shredded woman behind them and carried on down the tunnel. Surprisingly it opened onto a large, domed room, with eight paths heading off in different directions. Moss hung from the ceiling and trickles of water flowed like little waterfalls down the brick.

"An old cistern," Jaheira said to herself. "Which way now…"

But her thoughts were broken as an arrow suddenly sliced out of the darkness of a tunnel. Jaheira made a sick noise and fell backwards onto the stone. Another arrow struck Minsc, but the ranger didn't fall so easily. Instead he threw his bulk in front of Dynaheir, protecting the mage from the missiles.

 _"_ _Down, get down!_ _"_ Finn shouted, dragging Imoen down with him to the floor.

"Minsc, stand aside!" Dynaheir cried, stepping out from behind her protector. She aimed her bird-staff into the darkness, and a series of hawk-like missiles burst forth and flew with a screaming sound into the tunnel. The birds of prey found their mark. Finn could hear shouts and curses, and he took his own chance.

He jumped up quickly as he could, dashing off to the corner of the room, out of the range of the arrows. He slid up next to the tunnel just as Dynaheir let forth another burst. Finn could hear more screams, and he thought for certain their attackers would lose their nerve. But two men burst out of the tunnel, burned and dazed but ready for a fight.

 _"_ _You won_ _'_ _t hold us here!_ _"_ one of the men screamed as he stabbed his short sword towards Finn. He didn't elaborate though, and Finn didn't much feel like asking what he meant.

The outcome wasn't much in doubt. Injured as they were, the men fought like animals, but they were no match for Minsc and Finn. The bodies of two more thieves soon lay bleeding on the stones.

 _"_ _I am_ _…_ _I am fine, husband,_ _"_ Jaheira rasped, grasping at the arrow which pierced her arm.

"Are y-you ready?" Khalid asked her, his face pale.

"Yes…do it."

She let out a tense cry as Khalid saw to the business. But Jaheira had seen more than her share of arrows, and she healed her own wounds quickly before turning her attention to Minsc.

"Those men were running, weren't they?" Imoen asked, quietly.

She had helped herself to a bow and a quiver half-full of arrows. The bow was rather small, designed for fighting in tight places, and even her short arms could manage the string.

"So it would appear," Jaheira said grimly, rubbing her sore arm. "Running from whatever tore that woman to shreds. It would have been useful to speak with them, perhaps. But I do not think they were in the mood for conversation."

"So something's on the loose down here, and hunting. Just dandy," Finn remarked.

"They c-came from th-that tunnel. P-perhaps that w-way may lead to answers?" Khalid suggested.

"I'm not sure it'll be the kind of answer we want to get!" Imoen exclaimed.

"And here I thought you wanted adventures," Finn reminded her.

"Oh, don't start. _Hey!_ _"_

Her cry was not meant for him, though; Dynaheir's light suddenly expired and the cistern was plunged into total darkness. Before any of them could worry though the mage sent up another flare.

"Apologies. I have been sparing with the lights…the number of times I may cast this spell grows less. I do not…"

"Never mind. I can do it, too. Look!" Imoen declared. She spoke a short cantrip and another ball of light flared into existence, this one an orangey-red.

"Excellent, Imoen, but perhaps we should save them for when they are needed?" Jaheira suggested, gazing at the orbs. "No one need worry in the meantime…Khalid has torches in his pack. But if we are continuing, let us go. I do not feel like standing here and waiting to see what else turns up."

"Yeah…let's get moving," Finn said.

He wiped the blood from Sarevok's blade and slid it back into the sheath. The runes had grown brighter with battle and they shone like embers on the steel. Though he said nothing to anyone, he was in grudging awe of that weapon. It wasn't like any blade he'd ever known, and he was starting to appreciate having it strapped to his back.

...

They pressed on ahead, but Finn's thoughts were elsewhere. What were those thieves doing down there? Perhaps they'd found Valesa's hideout for themselves and were launching a strike. But thinking about the man's words he knew that wasn't true. Those thieves were running. They weren't hunters…they were prey. Prey for what, exactly, he still didn't know. It was inevitable though; he was going to find out.

"Just how big are these sewers, anyway?" Imoen whispered.

"You weren't with us the last time we were tromping around down here," Finn remarked. "They're as big as the city. Bigger, even."

"You told me you had to escape through the sewers," she said quietly. "That was when…"

"When what?"

"Ajantis."

Finn didn't say anything else. He knew Imoen fancied him. But truth be told, he never liked the knight much. He was a good fighter but a pompous ass, and he didn't think much of the little friendship he'd struck up with Anna. But he'd never felt in more of a white-hot rage the day they had to escape from Dosan's prison and leave Ajantis' murdered body behind.

To have someone who had fought beside them ripped away like that; murdered, chained, not even to die in a fair fight…Finn wanted to scream against all creation. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. But considering all the bodies they'd left behind them, maybe they had it coming. He just wondered why it should be Ajantis who faced the reckoning.

Once again though his thoughts were interrupted by a scream. Not so blood-curdling as the last one, but painful enough to the ears. They all drew weapons and headed towards the cries. Finn prepared himself for anything, but he was still surprised at what they found.

 _"_ _Oh, Finnigan_ _…_ _gods be praised, it is you!_ _"_

It was none other than Ione Valesa. She stood in a pool of blood, her silken white gown stained in red. At her feet were the bodies of two thieves. She held in her trembling hand a stained dagger, which she let fall to the floor.

Finn paused in the tunnel, sword raised, trying to make sense of the strange scene. _A scene,_ the thought came into his mind, but he wasn't sure why. Ione took two steps closer to him and collapsed into shaking sobs.

 _"_ _These men_ _…_ _they came for me_ _…_ _so desperate, I had to hide! Thank heaven it is you who have found me!_ _"_ she wailed.

"You are Ione Valesa, I presume?" Jaheira asked. The druid stayed firmly where she was, and made no move to see if the woman was injured.

 _"_ _Yes, yes,_ _"_ she cried again.

"What…what the hells has been going on down here?" Finn asked.

"The thieves…my brother has joined forces with them," Ione replied, trying to compose herself. "He has sent them to end my life! Never before has he done this…his heart has turned to cold evil!"

"And a strange thing it is," Jaheira remarked. "For we have also found ourselves targeted by thieves. They have insisted we are aligned with you, and your _guild._ _"_

"Guild? I have no guild," Ione replied, and pulled herself up off the bricks. "I am just a lone woman. It is my brother's doing, all of it. He has whispered lies to them! I have never had any dealings with thieves before this. They attacked me in my home! I had no choice but to flee to the sewers."

"Indeed…and we have seen the remains of that battle," Jaheira said, still tense. "For a lone woman, you defend yourself remarkably well."

"Yes…that," Ione sighed. "If you saw that, then I am terribly sorry. Such horror! But I am not unskilled in the ways of magic. I summoned a spectral hound to fight my attackers. They are effective, but most…deadly."

To prove her point she waved a hand, and Finn jumped back as the form of a great, shaggy hound suddenly appeared from the ether. The beast glowed strangely with spirit-fire but remained motionless, transfixed as a statue.

"I only did what I must, to defend myself," Ione said sombrely. She waved her hand again and the beast disappeared.

"That might explain it," Finn said. "But what now? You and the thieves are telling completely different stories. And to be quite frank, I've not made up my mind on who to believe."

He scowled at the woman, but she broke into a smile.

"Believe in me, Finnigan. For I can show you the truth of my words. I did not flee to the sewers just for refuge. My brother is here. You may confront him, and demand the truth from him. Will you follow me?"

She reached out with a pale, blood-spattered arm. None of it seemed to be hers, though; if she was injured, she didn't show it. Finn realised then why he'd thought of a scene. He thought of Skie and that ridiculous play he'd been forced to sit through. It was a tableau; artificial, staged. False emotion, false drama. He was still being played, and he didn't like it one bit.

"No," he said.

He stood firm on the bricks, looking the woman straight in the eye. Ione seemed genuinely surprised.

"No…? You will not seek the truth? You would _abandon_ me here?"

"Truth? I don't think we'll find any of that down here, love. It's all wrong, all of it. _You_ _'_ _re_ wrong. I don't know why, or how, but… No. We're not following you. Come on, we're going back up to the surface."

He called to his companions, who seemed no less surprised than the elf.

"But what about the thieves?" Imoen asked.

"We'll deal with them," Finn replied. "But something's wrong down here, and we're getting out!"

"If that is your choice," Jaheira said slowly. "I cannot say I blame you."

"Indeed," Khalid said. "This… Th-this is n-not a g-g-good place."

"Finn wants to leave the little elf-woman here?" Minsc said. "But the thieves will kill her!"

"I don't think so," he replied. "But you can stay if you like."

"But…the bones did say," Dynaheir began, quietly.

"Damn the bones!" Finn said, whirling on her. "What do they want, to get us killed? Stay, if you want to. Follow your _path._ I don't give a damn. But I'm getting out of here, and I'm taking my sister with me. If you've got any sense, you'll come too."

Dynaheir stepped back against the tunnel wall, but what her expression was Finn couldn't say. Her veil was still draped over her face like a shroud. For one moment Finn thought of ripping it off, but he made a disgusted noise in his throat and turned away up the tunnel.

 _"_ _Do not leave, Child of Bhaal!_ _"_ Ione's voice rang out.

Finn froze in his tracks. A queer heat began rising in his throat and his heart started to beat faster. He turned around, slowly, and faced the woman.

 _"_ _What did you call me?_ _"_ he growled.

"I called you by what you are," she said. "Oh, yes, I know. It is why I took on your services in the first place. I needed someone more than a common mercenary."

"And I suppose if I leave, you'll share that fact with everyone you meet?" Finn demanded.

"Oh, no," she assured him. "We can keep your secret between ourselves. There is no need to sound so _hostile,_ Finn. I need not be your enemy here. But I do need your assistance. Come with me. Aid me, and great will be your reward."

"Or maybe we could just kill you here, and hand your corpse over to the Shadow Thieves," Finn said coldly. "That would solve both my problems, nice and neat."

A little smile cracked out of Ione's mouth, and her pale blue eyes almost looked delighted at the threat.

"Oh, but I do not believe you would do that. You would not kill a defenceless woman in cold blood… Or would you?"

"Do you want to find out?" he said, stepping forward.

 _"_ _Yes._ _"_

Finn scowled again. Was that a challenge, or…? Ione wasn't defenceless, she'd proved that well enough. Whether she thought she was up to taking on the lot of them, though, was another question. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't walk away; Shadow Thieves be damned, that woman knew his secret. But could he kill her for that? No. She'd called his bluff. There was no answer at all.

"Then come with me, then," Ione said, reading his hesitation. "My brother is not far. We can reach him together!"

"Finn?" Jaheira said, looking at him.

Even the druid herself seemed unsure. Perhaps it was only Ione speaking the truth of his heritage, but they all seemed silent as if a spell had been cast. Finn shut his eyes and his heart beat faster. He searched deep within himself, trying to find an answer that wasn't there.

"…Walk the path, Finn," Dynaheir said. Her voice broke into his reverie, pulling him back out again. He could smell the stink of the sewers and the rank smell of fresh blood. He looked straight at Ione, who was still regarding him with that little smile.

"All right. We'll go. But if you show even the slightest _hint_ you're about to double cross us…"

"Then my agony will be too much to bear, I am certain," Ione replied. "But I am delighted you have seen sense at last. This way, follow me!"

She gathered her long skirts and set off merrily as a maiden to a summer fair. Finn was even less pleased with the situation than before, but he felt like he didn't have much choice in the matter. He felt himself being pulled down like water sucked into a sewer pipe.

...

 _"_ _Finn, that woman is_ _…_ _I do not like her,_ _"_ Jaheira came and whispered at his side.

"Me neither," he replied, watching her skip on ahead.

"But there is…more. She is out of balance. Something about her…it goes against nature," she mused. "Silvanus help me…if I had no reason to follow her, I would run away."

Finn looked at her in surprise. It was a rare admission from Jaheira, usually the steeliest of them all. Her face was tight from worry and she kept her eyes fixed on the woman. Perhaps her years of druid meditation had given her a better perspective on these things than most folks had. But he had felt it too…a cold fear. And Dynaheir had spoken of evil.

"What in the hells is she?" Finn muttered to himself.

 _What,_ not who. The idea was a new one, but it stuck in his mind.

"I do not know," Jaheira replied. "But I would assume she means us no good. And she knows what you are…"

"That's the least of our problems at the moment," he said. "Let's just keep our eyes open, eh?"

Jaheira nodded grimly and went to walk next to her husband. Finn though kept thinking about Ione. After Sarevok fell, Finn thought it was the end. But Xan pulled him aside one day, and told him there were other Children of Bhaal still alive. How many? Dozens, hundreds… The elf never said. He didn't even say how he knew. But from that moment Finn knew he wasn't alone. There were others out there. And just perhaps, one day, some of them might come looking. Had one found him? Ione was an elf, could she still be a Child of Bhaal? It was a mad idea, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered.

But there was one person in their group who might offer an answer. And Finn was quite determined that this time he was going to get it.

"Dynaheir," he said, falling back to speak with the mage.

"Thy call?" she said, her voice distant.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Of what do you speak?"

"Do we need to play these games now?" Finn said. "You knew. About me. What Ione called me. You knew."

There was a silence, and Dynaheir's feet slowed.

"Yes," she finally said.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the death of your foul brother," she said. "Most in this city believed the earthquake to be only a force of nature, but I knew better. I could feel that great force, the power unleashed… I knew."

"But there must be more to it than that," he said. "You couldn't just assume what I was based on some earthquake."

"Indeed. And there doth seem little point in hiding it now," Dynaheir sighed. "It is not for Minsc's _dejemma_ that we came to these lands. That is what we did tell him… May the spirits of my foremothers forgive me. For in my coven there was great talk; a great upheaval was to occur, ancient prophecies come to life. We feared that even our land would not be safe. So my sisters did send me here, with Minsc, to see what could be learned."

"But why you, though?"

"It…it was not by choice. For the mother of my coven sensed within me some thread of this prophecy…some part that I was destined to play. I needed to come, so that my destiny be fulfilled."

Finn stared at Dynaheir's veiled form in surprise.

"What, you aren't a…?"

"A Child of Bhaal? No. But there are many who are not of Bhaal's blood who are tangled in this web. The great seers amongst the _Hathran_ see so much more than I. They gave me the bones of the sacred mothers, that I might consult them if we did lose our way. We followed them up and down this coast, enough that I feared we were lost. Minsc doth follow me everywhere, may his spirit be blessed! Never once did he question me. And when we were ambushed by those foul gnolls I believed we were truly lost. But then…you appeared. I knew at once you were the one we did seek."

"I still don't understand, though," Finn said. "You came looking for the Children of Bhaal? And you came to see the prophecy acted out? A little warning would have been nice!"

"I did _not_ know. Reading portents is not like reading a book, the words are not plain and clear. The name of Bhaal was not spoken. We only knew that a great change was coming, a war amongst the gods. We were afraid. We came to see what could be learned, and what, if ought, could be done. That is all."

"And so where does Valesa fit into all of this?"

"She did seem to be investigating the Bhaal legends herself," Dynaheir said. "It filled me with alarm. If I had known that she would approach you, I would have warned you away. Foolish, perhaps, I thought you would be hidden. If I could discern the truth, then surely others could as well. But I did not wish you ill. And for keeping the truth from you, I do apologise."

She drew up her veil and looked at him with earnest eyes. Finn stopped and looked away.

"So you know what I am, then, and you don't hate me? I always got the impression you didn't like me very much."

"What else could thy expect? I did not know what form this curse might take. But I did see honour within you. And whatever I did think…I know that it is you who will carry this prophecy forward. You must act, if there is to be any hope for us."

"Is that why you've been so insistent we follow this woman? Why? Is she a Child of Bhaal, too?"

Finn though didn't get an answer, as the woman in question had double-backed and was making her way towards them.

"Not the place for lovebirds' talk, my pretty ones!" Ione trilled. "I was afraid, Finnigan, that you were slipping away from me."

"Perish the thought," he said bluntly. "Have we found this brother of yours yet?"

"Not yet. But if we stop, we shall never find him! Now follow me, there's a good boy."

She grinned at him and flounced off again. Dynaheir scowled and let her veil drop.

"She is right…we must follow."

...

Finn gritted his teeth, but he caught up with the others. All this talk of prophecy had set him even more on edge. He didn't feel like anything special. And the idea that unseen powers were directing his footsteps made him feel that much closer to madness. It was only dumb luck that he managed to defeat Sarevok, that was all. He was the younger bastard son, never meant to inherit Bhaal's power. But if part of his destiny should involve killing Ione Valesa, at that moment he was more than happy to be a pawn of fate.

"By the gods…" Imoen said. "What is _that?_ _"_

It seemed they had reached the end of the tunnel. It opened into a wide room. In front of them were three doors, or what looked like they _might_ be doors. In the centre of the room stood a large crystal on a plinth. It sent out glowing shocks of electric energy towards the portals set into the opposite wall. The air felt alive with electricity and there was a strange humming sound that seemed to radiate off the bricks.

"This is my brother's front door," Ione told her. "I did tell you he was a mage."

"So how do we open it, then?" Imoen replied.

"Just like any door, my sweet child. One only needs the key. Do you see those holes in the crystal? Find the shard which matches and the door will open."

"But we haven't got any… Oh," Imoen said, watching as Ione opened a bag and took out several shards of crystal.

"And do not tell me… You do not know which shard it may be," Jaheira remarked.

"I am afraid not, good _peredhil,_ _"_ Ione responded.

Jaheira scowled, not least from the elven woman's reference to her heritage.

"And I _suppose_ great harm will come to any who should try the wrong key?"

"Just so," Ione said, smiling up at her. "Now where to begin? _Ah!_ This one looks a likely match. Finn, if you would do the honours?"

"Ladies first," he scowled. "I'm not daft. You want that door open, then you can fry your own hands."

 _"_ _Tut,_ such a gentleman! But do not think I expect you to put yourself into grave danger. This orb will help shield you from any negative effects. Although, there will still be pain…which is precisely why I have asked _you._ You are the strongest among us. You should best be able to cope with the effects."

She held up a smooth glowing crystal and offered it to Finn, but Minsc had taken offence at her words.

"Finn is not the strongest! Minsc is surely just as strong as he is. Can you not see the strength in his arms? These rippling muscles send all the maidens trembling! Minsc will put the crystal together, his mighty heart will not fail!"

"Minsc, don't," Finn began. "No one's questioning your manhood here, but…"

"Oh, you are certainly quite a…hulk," Ione said, diplomatically. "But I think perhaps it is still best if Finn undertakes the task."

"And why is that, exactly?" Jaheira demanded again.

"Because of his _strength,_ of course," Ione smiled. "You cannot tell me you are not aware of it? The power of his own blood will protect him."

By the look on her face Jaheira was still not very pleased with Ione's explanation, but Finn interrupted further debate.

"Never mind all this. I'll do it."

"Finn, no…" Jaheira said.

"She's hardly dragged us all the way down here just to kill me like this," he groaned. "What do I have to do?"

"That is my brave boy!" Ione said. "It could not be more simple. Place a shard in the corresponding hole, and the door to that passage will open."

"And which door do we need?" he asked, taking the supposedly-protective sphere from her.

"The centre door, naturally. Made your choices carefully," she warned him.

Finn scowled. He could see the hole in the centre was larger than the two on the sides. He spread the shards Ione gave him out on the floor. Two were larger than the rest. The glowing of the crystal made it next to impossible to figure out which of the two might be a match, but Finn did his best. He took up a shard, clenched the sphere tightly in his other hand, and tried sliding the shard into place.

 _"_ _Gods damn it!_ _"_ he screamed, or tried to. The force of electricity flowing up his arm felt like a hammer blow. His muscles went rigid and it was all he could do to pull himself away. He collapsed onto the floor, his arm shaking violently.

 _"_ _Finn!_ _"_ Imoen cried.

"No, do not touch him!" Jaheira said, restraining the girl. "Damn you, woman; is that your idea of free from harm?"

"He would be far worse without the sphere," Ione assured her. "Try again."

Finn spat onto the ground and glared up at her. He breathed heavily, trying to collect himself. His arm felt stiff and numb; his sword arm. But shakily he rose to his feet, and tried the second large shard.

This time the shard melted into place, but Finn was greeted by such a white-hot burst of pain that he didn't see it. He screamed through clenched teeth, trying to fight off the agony that had seized him. But the electric bolts that guarded the door on the left had ceased, and the passage opened.

...

Finn couldn't see anything at first, waiting for the mist to clear from his eyes. But the screams of his friends told him that something was very wrong. He raised his head off the floor, trying to make sense of the nightmare vision that was shambling towards them. Some sort of _creature,_ huge, stinking, with three eyes set on a stalk like some giant snail. In front of its body were two heavy tentacles armed with barbs the length of a man's hand.

 _"_ _Otyugh! Get back!_ _"_ Jaheira shouted.

Minsc was nearest the creature, and managed somehow to dodge out of the way of a vicious tentacle-swipe. The second tentacle struck home though, sending the big man flying through the air with a cry of agony.

 _"_ _Ghgcght,_ _"_ the otyugh growled, the massive mouth spraying out more filth. _"_ _Protect the master!_ _"_

"One of my brother's servants!" Ione shouted. "We must destroy it!"

But for that she seemed to put no effort in, retreating instead to the far side of the room. With Minsc out of the way the creature turned its attention to Finn.

He cursed and dragged himself up off the floor. His right arm felt dead as a fallen tree, nearly paralysed by the orb's shock. With effort he managed to draw his sword and took a clumsy swing at the flailing tentacles. He struck home but the blow was not what it should have been. The otyugh screamed and lashed at Finn with the other tentacle. He screamed in turn, feeling those wicked barbs drive themselves into the flesh on his back. His blood felt on fire and he was once again driven to his knees.

Finn thought he was done. That massive mouth was a mere foot away, and he couldn't move. But several bursts of energy struck the creature, melting against its skin and driving it back. Jaheira and Khalid rushed forward as one, he engaging with the creature to grab its attention while Jaheira used all her strength to drag Finn to safety. She laid her hands on him and Finn felt a little better, but not much.

"Stay down! We will deal with this abomination," she said hurriedly, dashing back to aid her husband.

Khalid had already managed to cut off the beast's eye stalk, leaving it howling in agony. The Harpers were quick, dancing around the beast and getting in their blows while the otyugh grew ever more confused. Dynaheir continued blasting it with her spells, and Imoen tried her best to find a clear shot with the thief's arrows. Khalid could see it weakening and took his chance, driving his sword deep as he could into its hide. The otyugh shuddered one last time and collapsed onto the floor, still.

"Keep away, its tentacles may move even after death," Jaheira said, breathing heavily and wiping her mouth.

She went to tend to Minsc, who was still struggling with the creature's hit. Finn knew how he felt; like every illness he'd ever had suddenly decided to come back at once. And his arm was still numb.

 _"_ _Yuck, yuck, yuck!_ _"_ Imoen exclaimed. "It's like some walking pile of dung!"

"Dead now, but there still art two doors left," Dynaheir remarked. "What else shall spring from them?"

"I did say to choose wisely, did I not?" Ione said, sliding up to Finn.

 _"_ _Fuck off,_ _"_ he choked.

"Oh, dear. But I cannot say I blame you; you look positively peaked just now! Can you heal yourself? Are you able? Or do you need to wait for the priestess to nurse you back to health?"

Finn crumpled down into a ball, trying to ignore the woman's taunting. Heal himself; he wanted to heal himself enough that he could stand up and punch her in the face. He gritted his teeth and felt heat blazing though his body. When it cooled he felt like he could breathe again.

"Good, good," Ione said, approving. "Most interesting. _Rage_ is a great motivator for you, I have noticed. I thought if I could anger you it might spurn your abilities."

"You did that on _purpose?_ _"_ Finn said, looking up to glare at her.

"No need to thank me. But we have still not opened my brother's chamber. Now, shall we try again?"

"Absolutely not!" Jaheira said. She had finished her business with Minsc and now came to see Finn. "I will not see him endure this again. If you want the door opened, do it yourself!"

"You are very _protective_ of him, aren't you?" Ione remarked, watching as Jaheira kneeled over him. "It is almost as if… But never mind. Let Finn decide. The door must be opened; will you do it yourself, or watch one of your friends suffer in your place?"

"I'd rather see you suffer," he remarked.

"Oh, no, I could not possibly do this. My delicate elvish constitution, and all that… Besides, it is almost certain my brother will have warded these doors against me. You, or one of your friends must try."

"Minsc will open the door!" the big man volunteered again. "No monster's tentacles can stop him. We are brave! See how brave Boo is!"

He pulled the rodent from his pouch to see how he fared after the battle. Boo seemed well enough, but he refused to come out, and only scrambled back in again.

"Boo? You are no coward. Why do you hide? Don't be afraid, we have slain the scary monster!"

"Never mind, never mind!" Finn said, mustering himself enough to shout. "I'll do it again. Minsc, you don't want to do this. If anything…happens…we need another strong sword arm here."

"If that is what friend Finn wishes. But we will be standing guard!" Minsc finally agreed.

"I really do not think…" Jaheira began.

"Me neither. But let's just do this, alright?" Finn replied.

...

He picked up the orb where he had dropped it, and set about examining the crystal again. Two holes remained. The centre hole hadn't opened the centre door; that was always going to be too easy. But the left door was now open, so maybe the left-hand hole might do something? He chose a likely fit for the crystal and tried to drive in the shard.

Finn knew what was coming next, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. Once again that blinding flash of energy struck him, driving a scream out of his mouth before he could do anything. He collapsed to the ground, dropping the sphere as he fell.

"This orb…" Dynaheir said, collecting it off the floor. "It is nought but a crystal set with a spell of light! It protects Finn not! Thou dost lie, woman!"

 _"_ _Shhh,_ _"_ Ione said, holding a finger to her lips. "I needed to give him something, some source of comfort. I thought perhaps it might help."

"What sort of a villain are you?" Jaheira exclaimed, and hurried to his aid.

Finn blinked hard and looked up. He could still barely move his arm, but with relief he saw that the middle door was now open.

 _"_ _I opened_ _…_ _the damned thing_ _…"_ he managed to say.

"But it…doesn't go anywhere?" Imoen said.

Finn looked; she was right. The door was nothing more than an alcove, sealed in bricks.

"Oops! Well, perhaps it is the right-hand door, then," Ione said cheerfully.

"Stop playing games, bitch!" Finn bellowed, forcing out the words. "I am _not_ _…_ _doing_ _…_ _that_ _…_ _again!_ _"_

"But you must, or we will never proceed!" she said.

Finn just hissed at her in return. That heat was coming up again. Being battered so much had weakened any resolve he might've had to hold it back. Black tentacles were rising, snapping, sliding up his veins. He pushed Jaheira off him and rose to his feet, forgetting all about his pain.

"What are you going to do, Finn?" Ione asked.

Her voice had an almost dreamlike quality to it, and she didn't seem at all concerned. All Finn could see was black. He reached for his sword, with hands that were no longer his own. He heard a voice, Jaheira probably, but what she said he didn't hear.

 _"_ _Run_ _…"_

Somehow he forced the word from his lips. One warning, more than Ione deserved. He was slipping fast, and he knew it wouldn't be long till the black had totally seized him. But the elven woman just kept staring at him with a look approaching delight.

 _"_ _Yes_ _…_ _come to me_ _…"_ she whispered.

It was no lover's call, but something even more primal. Something was wrong; her face was changing. Her watery eyes turned solid black, an endless void. Her beautiful elven face seemed to almost shrivel and turned strangely gaunt. But most pronounced of all were the sharp fangs that had suddenly filled her mouth. She flew at Finn with an unnatural speed; fangs open, wickedly long fingernails poised to strike.

Finn raised his sword weakly; even in his state of flux he was mesmerised by the change he had witnessed. But someone was faster than him. A bolt of energy shot out, striking Ione hard across the face. She screamed, distracted from her attack. She turned to face her new attacker, and saw Dynaheir.

 _"_ _Back, creature of the void!_ _"_ the mage screamed, trying to summon her courage. She raised her staff again but Ione reached her before she could call forth its energy. With one swift blow the woman knocked the staff from her hands, sending it skidding across the floor.

 _"_ _You die now, little fool!_ _"_ Ione hissed, her voice garbled and twisted. Dynaheir somehow managed to conjure a spell, sending a flash of sparks into Ione's face. It made her step back, but it was far from enough to stop her frenzied assault. Ione slashed at her with those wicked fingernails, tearing away her veil and drawing blood.

 _"_ _Vampire! Dynaheir, retreat!_ _"_ Jaheira screamed, but it was doubtful if she heard her. Finn though had recovered himself. More than recovered; he felt a surging power, that hunter's instinct summoned with force.

He bellowed and charged forward with all his strength. Sarevok's blade was alive in his hands, singing glory and ready to strike. He raised it, ready to cleave the vampire in two. But at the last moment she whirled. Ione smiled at him, and her form became as ash. Finn's sword struck through her but there was nothing there, the vampire drifting away like smoke. Nothing, but the form of the woman who was behind her.

He saw Dynaheir's eyes, but he couldn't stop his strike. Finn screamed feeling his blade strike Dynaheir's neck. The mage made no noise at all, and fell silently to the floor.

...

 _Silence._ The room around him was silent, but Finn could hear a ringing in his ears. It was deafening, growing louder at every heartbeat. He felt a surge flowing up Sarevok's blade, strengthening him, healing his injured sword arm. But none of that mattered anymore. He stared, gasping, leaning on his blade as he looked unbelieving at Dynaheir, as her blood flowed out onto the floor.

 _"_ _Dynaheir_ _…_ _Dynaheir is dead?_ _"_ he heard Minsc say. _"_ _You_ _…_ _you have killed Dynaheir! Our witch is dead! No_ _…_ _I will kill you now!_ _"_

 _"_ _Minsc, no!_ _"_ Jaheira cried, trying to restrain him. _"_ _Finn_ _…_ _he did not_ _…_ _that blow was meant for Ione! You saw it yourself!_ _"_

 _"_ _I care not! I care not! Minsc_ _'_ _s witch is dead! He will kill you! He will kill you!_ _"_

Finn didn't move. He was frozen. He expected the big man's sword to come crashing down at any moment, but it didn't happen. Instead he came and kneeled on the floor, cradling the woman in his arms as sobs began to rack his chest.

 _"_ _Minsc_ _…_ _failed,_ _"_ he choked, blubbering like a small child. _"_ _Dynaheir_ _…"_

Finn didn't say anything. He shut his eyes, trying to find himself again. He felt the living energy in Sarevok's blade, and suddenly let it drop with a clattering to the floor. He collapsed onto the blood-stained stones, breathing hard as Minsc continued to wail.

"We must leave this place," Jaheira said, coming to kneel in between the two men. "Oh, Silvanus… Pray for her, Minsc, in the way of your homeland. We will…bear her from this place. Perhaps, the priests may… _Damn her! Damn that woman!_ How…why are we here? Finn, can you speak?"

Finn wasn't sure himself. He felt like someone waking from a dream. Or a nightmare. He saw Dynaheir's eyes again, staring up at him before the final blow. Surprised, but not afraid.

"These…these c-cuts the vampire g-gave her were vicious," Khalid said, reaching for something to say. "Even with J-Jaheira's aid…"

Finn shut his eyes again and shuddered. Was Khalid trying to absolve him of some of his guilt?

"Everyone…the door. It's open now."

Finn looked up at Imoen. Her pale face was stained with tears, and she tried to wipe her eyes. But he followed her gaze, and saw that the bricks which were blocking the middle passage were now gone.

 _"_ _How?_ _"_ he said, roughly, trying to speak.

"An illusion, perhaps?" Jaheira sighed. "Vanished with this woman. _A vampire!_ She was a vampire…"

Everyone seemed too frozen to move. Somehow Finn managed to pull himself to his feet. He took up Sarevok's blade, now stained with innocent blood. The runes were glowing bright in their mockery. He sheathed it roughly and turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Imoen asked.

"She said her brother was down there. Maybe he is. I'm going to find him," he said, automatically.

"Finn, no… It will be but another trap," Jaheira said quickly. "Let us not walk into more this day!"

"Trap or no, I'm going to find him."

"Oh, she has no brother!" the druid exclaimed. "It was all a ruse, all of it. We must leave now before she returns!"

Finn stepped nearer the door, ignoring her protestations. But as he neared the arch he stopped. A cold, intangible wind was flowing out of that passage. The air of the tunnel was damp and cool like the rest of the sewers, but something… He could feel it in his blood.

"No, she's down here. I can tell."

"Where is this beast?" Minsc said, managing somehow to collect himself somewhat.

Finn pointed into the darkness. Minsc laid Dynaheir tenderly down on the stones. Her veil was torn to shreds, so he drew his own cloak over her body.

"Twelve spirits, twelve watching stones…guard her. Do what Minsc could not," he said. "But now, Minsc will have revenge! We must not fail… We must kill the beast. Dynaheir's blood demands this. Kill this beast and bring Dynaheir her head! Do this, Finn, or Minsc will not forget what is owed."

The big man looked at him, a remarkable light of clarity burning in his eyes. Finn agreed.

"I will, Minsc. I swear that to you. We'll kill her, or die trying."

"You m-may do just that," Khalid warned them. "She is a v-vampire, and a p-powerful one. D-do not storm in j-just for revenge. Think of K-Kivan, and his m-madness that n-nearly lost his life."

"Kivan wanted revenge more than he wanted life," Finn remarked. "And I just killed a friend. I don't have any choice. If Minsc and I have to go after her alone, so be it."

"Not alone," Imoen said quietly. "I'll go. Don't worry…I'll stay back."

She grasped her bow in her shaking hand, but her eyes were determined. Finn wanted to send her away, but slowly he nodded his head.

"Alright, then."

"Then we will go as well," Jaheira said, slowly. "I should be more than glad to have my own revenge against this woman. But take care, Finn. No foolishness. One life has already been lost…let there not be more."

Finn said nothing as he turned away into the tunnel, now lit by Imoen's red orb. One life lost…one more to go. _Him_. He could feel the mark upon his head now. He was a dead man.

...

But Minsc was right; he had no choice. Silently they crept through the tunnel, which eventually stopped at a door. An ordinary door this time.

"It may be trapped," Jaheira whispered, but Finn tried the ring. The door opened silently; not even locked.

But as they stepped through the door Finn wondered if they had been transported. Instead of the sewer they found a remarkably comfortable-looking sitting room. Fine tapestries hung on the walls, illuminated by the fire which crackled in a wide fireplace. Fine carved chairs and shelves stocked with books lined the walls, and a large carpet covered the stone floor. There was even a silver pitcher of wine sitting ready on a side-table, complete with two goblets.

"This is…nice," Imoen said.

"Hush. Be wary," Jaheira replied.

They all drew weapons. There were two hallways in the back of the room, and Finn chose one. His senses were still primed; the air grew colder with every step. He never felt that way in Valesa's presence before; her transformation had a remarkable effect.

The door to the adjoining room was closed, but Finn tensed seeing a shadow move from under the frame. He looked at his companions, and tightened his grip on his blade. But as he reached for the ring the door opened of its own accord.

"Finn! I'm glad you are here. Welcome home, my dears."

Valesa's voice greeted him, sounding much like her old self. Boldly he stepped into the room. It was some sort of study or library, with books stacked clear to the ceiling. So that was where her acquisitions went. Valesa was standing in the corner, looking like an elf once more. She smiled at him and gestured companionably for them to enter.

But Finn's eyes were drawn away from her to the other presence in the room. A large man sat at a desk, his back towards them. He was wearing hooded robes, and Finn could see nothing of him but his hands. Pale hands, strangely scarred. One hand kept place in a book, while the other scribbled notes with a quill pen. He said nothing, but Finn stopped in his tracks. Cold was radiating from him like heat from a bonfire.

"You see, my brother…I told you they would come," Ione said, proudly.

"Count yourself fortunate," the man replied levelly. "Your enthusiasm nearly cost us much."

He did not stop his work, continuing with his scratchings as if no one was in the room.

"A…momentary lapse, I'm sure," she said quickly. "You know me…I am always level-headed!"

The man snorted but didn't reply. Finn tried to shake off the cold enough to speak. There was a fire in the room, but somehow he was freezing.

"So we're here. And this is your brother? You don't look on such bad terms, after all."

"Oh, no, we're the best of chums," Ione said. "And I do apologise for my little subterfuge. It was necessary, you see, to convince you to follow me."

 _"_ _Not_ necessary, Bodhi; as I told you, my hirelings would have taken care of everything, and with considerably less drama. But you could not resist a chance to swipe at your adversaries, and use the Child of Bhaal to do so!"

He still spoke levelly, but the air positively crackled with ice and it made Finn shudder deep within. Who was that man? Another vampire?

"But you wanted to be sure… A test, dear brother, was in order. Now we know. Now we can begin."

"You…will begin nothing, fiend," Jaheira said, sounding like she was forcing out the words. "Blood has been spilt this day. I care not for whatever plans you have…but you will answer for them!"

"Such pointless bleating… It was Finn who killed the mage, not I. Will you take your revenge on him?"

"No! Friend Finn…he made a mistake," Minsc declared. "He…he did not want to kill Dynaheir!"

"Oh, are you certain of that?" the woman said, her eyes lighting up. "Do you know what he is? The blood within him simply calls out for murder… _whose_ murder is immaterial. Mine, Dynaheir's…yours. Who will be next, I wonder?"

"You will be!" Finn cried. "I'm not a murderer. And killing you won't be murder at all. Undead have no rights by law. You…"

But the woman broke into his statement with a trill of laughter.

"Oh, the _law!_ Honestly, you do make my sides ache. I could listen to you all night!"

"Mock us not, fiend…" Jaheira began.

 _"_ _Enough of this,_ _"_ the man interrupted, and they all fell silent. "Restrain yourself, Bodhi, if you are able. You have brought the Child here, that is enough. All this pointless bickering is interrupting my work."

"Fine, then. Let's get to the point," Finn said. "We can carve you both into pieces!"

He was more than primed for a fight. But the man at the desk seemed totally unconcerned.

"No, Child of Bhaal…you will not."

Finn barely heard the man's quiet words as he launched his attack. The man raised a hand, just as Finn raised his sword. He clicked his fingers. Finn's world went black, and he knew no more.


End file.
